


PART ONE: The Variable

by Findarato



Series: neon▲chromatic [1]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Burnish Galo Thymos, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, M/M, Promare Big Burn 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24418522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: [[ Written for Promare Big Burn ]]Someone in the world once claimed books burn at four hundred and fifty-one degrees, in Fahrenheit..Ninety-eight point six degrees Fahrenheit used to be the average human body temperature, but now people are saying it’s closer to ninety-seven point five degrees..AU, with Burnish!Galo. Follows canon events, with additions here and there.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Series: neon▲chromatic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763419
Comments: 6
Kudos: 123
Collections: Promare Big Burn 2020





	1. ( PROLOGUE )

**Author's Note:**

> I had ideas of this AU for a while but executing it is another matter....when PBB was opened, I thought I might as well take that chance to write it.
> 
> ...turned out i can't estimate my own writing lengths at all, or the amount of time this fic would take. Originally, it was might to be one whole story, but since I hit 20k and only barely scratched the surface, I ended this fic at a fitting part and plan to continue the rest in a future installment.
> 
> I had the pleasure of working with [Goldy](https://twitter.com/clockfairie) for this; thank you so much for collaborating with me ♥ 
> 
> Please enjoy!

**( PROLOGUE )**

ＬＩＯ，

**Journal entry, 20XX**

_The first time I rode a motorcycle on my own, it had been in a crowded city, and I nearly hit several signs, several people, and narrowly avoided a collision with a truck. I finally managed to get out of that space, only to have a flat tire because of road spikes I forgot they placed in on one of the roads to stop people from doing exactly what I was._   
  
_Yes, I got arrested on my first solitary jaunt. You do stupid things when you’re sixteen and bored. Somehow they didn’t take away my permit, and I got a general earful from my parents, but they let me keep the bike. I suppose some credit has to be given to them—they deserve a sticker for being Not Terrible up until I was seventeen?_   
  
_People say children are supposed to be grateful towards their family, because parents provided, fed, and sheltered. There were gifts and celebrations. There was praise and some level of affection. That bike was a gift I asked for and received. It was within the expectations of what a family does and cares about._   
  
_The odd factor out is that I became Burnish. Even though everyone said there’s no way of predicting who it would happen to, and even though the causes were only speculation, everyone still blames us, as if there’s something we could’ve done. Blood dries up from the flames, and they told me to leave, because they didn’t want to turn me in._   
  
_Some people might think I’m ungrateful._   
  
_Am I supposed to be grateful about the bare minimum, or the fact they were too scared to deal with me and took the easy way out? Is it fair to me that they cried and gave me some money and food, and closed the door in my face?_   
  
_When the flames first appeared, I remember I was beating up some assholes that were beating up someone else. It was behind a supermarket, and no one was stopping to help._   
  
_So of course I did. And it happened. A week later, I was on my own._   
  
_Fear is a motivator for a lot of things._   
  
_Was I afraid? Not really; more worried about sleeping out in the open. But once thieves found out I was Burnish, they stayed away, too. There were certainly some perks to being scarier and more dangerous. Actual murders would be afraid of me too._   
  
_I wrote to my parents, once. Of course they wouldn’t write back. They probably threw it out. But that’s to be expected. If anyone found out, I’d be hunted down._   
  
_I’m actually being hunted at the moment, because I took over Mad Burnish. It’s hilarious to see the speculation about what I look like, my age, and other information._   
  
_They couldn’t be more wrong._

**~**

Someone in the world once claimed books burn at four hundred and fifty-one degrees, in Fahrenheit. It turns out they’re wrong—that’s the ignition temperature of paper, but not all books are equal in thickness of paper or their age. Other matters are involved too, depending on the dryness of the air or if there’s other materials that aren’t paper or fabric. But the fact is that books do burn, and many are irreplaceable.

Lio stands in the skeleton of a library, among crumbled, scorched stone that has long ago lost its burnt scent. There’s not many books left, seeing whatever the fire didn’t destroy, nature did. If he kicks around a bit, he does find remains here and there. There’s a segment of a hardcover, plastic melted into the paper. He tugs it free, and half of it falls out. Dust and paper crumbles in his fingers when he opens it, at random. It smells like dirt.

> _ “The universe, wh ch … has not been made by … god or man, but it has alw ys been, is, and always … be—an ever-liv g fire…” _

Fitting.

The plastic cracks when he shuts the book. He nearly tosses it, but instead puts it down gently. A book is a book, and unless it’s some fanatical bullshit by a madman like Hitler, deserves respect. Even the books about taxes.

It’s a shame that books were unlucky. So much of man-created materials were inflammable, but books fell to even cigarettes. Careless or accidental fire, and they’re gone. Sure, most information is digital and accessible, but the tactile quality of a book can’t be matched at times.

At least books don’t have spirits, and at least in this place, no one will be looking for them. Lio has seen pictures of this building before, when it was whole. It was built to endure the years, but not supernatural powers. Few things, even now, can endure that. Hard to when temperatures fluctuated so much, and no one is exactly looking to make things work to benefit Burnish, only to hinder them.

He picks up another book; it basically disintegrates into pieces. Maybe paper is a good fertiliser?

The earpiece he wears suddenly crackles; he taps it.

_“Boss. Meis here, checking in.”_

“All clear?”

_“Yep, went really smooth. Either we’re too good at this, or it was just easy pickings.”_

“You got everyone out?”

_“Cleaned it all out, except the guards. One nice little cell with the locks melted is enough to hold ’em.”_

“Good.” He feels the tension in his shoulders relax. “Meeting place is still the same. Don’t be late.”

_“You got it, Boss.”_

There’s more static, and he’s left to relative silence. Relative, because the flames were always speaking to him. He only talks back, when he feels like it, or when it’s important.

And he has nothing to say now, except maybe to ask, _‘Do you ever read? Can you even understand the concept? When you burn, can you hear actual death happening? Would you apologise for it?’_

The whispers are always in the middle of his ears, sinking and surrounding him. _‘When knowledge is burned, where does it go?’_

Into the ground. Knowledge is nothing if it’s gone. If he stands here long enough, maybe he’ll absorb it. Maybe he’ll be able to pick up a new skill, like negotiating.

Except that’s highly dubious. He’s not cut out to be that kind of person. Lio Fotia doesn’t negotiate, he takes what his—what is theirs. They deserve more than scrabbling in shadows and breaking out of prisons. They deserve better than desert winds and dry throats.

All these books, and not a single one by a Burnish, or on their actual crisis.

The only benefit of books now is that they do burn so, so well, for warmth and cooking.

He gathers what he can, and only feels half-apologetic.

**.**

ＧＡＬＯ，

**Time elapsed since It happened:**

**3 months, 2 weeks, Wednesday**

_# of instances of flames: 16, 2xs this week. Think nearly burned a stray cat (it’s alive, it tried to scratch me. I deserved that). Successfully breached an empty apartment and dissolved/got rid of the flames without being noticed._

_The voices are still there. They haven’t stopped and probably won’t._

_I’d write it down but it’s still the same shit about burning more and more. I get it, but I also don’t get it._

_Other observations: after 1 month of testing, turns out I really don’t need a hair dryer or hot water or even a heater. Doesn’t make a difference in the bills due to AC/fridges. Went through too much ice cream. Water bill could be lower._

_Misc: Rum Raisin ice cream tastes like a shit Friday night._

**~**

Ninety-eight point six degrees Fahrenheit used to be the average human body temperature, but now people are saying it’s closer to ninety-seven point five degrees.

There are two fire hydrants, two basins of water, and a mini-fridge surrounding the bed, like some summoning circle. Both the bathtub and all the sinks are filled to the brim, and there’s a heavy blanket in the closet. The window is unlocked, rope placed on the window. Two digital thermometers and a glass of water are on the nightstand, next to the cellphone.

The alarm is set to go off every hour and a half, and Galo ends up going to bed at ten because of that. Every 1:30 mark, a new sound from his phone vibrates and he sits up to check the vicinity, himself, and outside the window. After that, he sticks a thermometer in his mouth, and waits for it to beep.

It always, always reads normal, ever since three months ago, when he first started doing this.

Admittedly, his sleep patterns are fucked. It’s like taking a lot of naps, and if not for the fact he runs on coffee and adrenaline, he probably wouldn’t function like a normal person. But what is normalcy? Is it being able to sleep through the night, able to ignore the news, and to mindlessly go through the day? Or is it not second-guessing thoughts and actions, or not fearing the unconscious and unaware?

When he takes the glass in his hand, it’s cold, but not so cold for condensation on the surface. It’s actually tepid, but he’s taken to upping the air conditioner as much as his budget would allow. It’s still humming away, rattling slightly. 

He should dust it.

He shouldn’t even be in a building. Maybe he’s imagining it, but it seems as if he can feel each and every person in this apartment. Thirty-four floors, twenty-one rooms each. Packed tight, the heat and heartbeats and sounds closing in on him if he concentrates. And the whispers that babble at him until he gulps more water and dunks his head in a basin. The shock of it lasts only a second, because he usually does this at least once or twice in a night.

Galo emerges with dripping hair and deep gulps, before he sticks his entire face into the mini-fridge. His cheeks burn and his nose runs, but it stops the voices—for a little while. There’s some ice cream there, too, and once he’s done freezing his face, he yanks open the carton for smooth, rich pistachio to smother any other voices.

He knows what this is. He knows very well what it is. He’s not normal anymore. God help him, he’s a member of Burning Rescue and he’s _Burnish_.

His phone buzzes twice and lights up; out of habit he reaches for it, swiping icy droplets out of his face.

 _Seventy Burnish Flushed Out of Hiding_ , a news feed notification reads. Despite himself, he clicks, blasting his eyes momentarily with white light.

 _‘Wednesday, 1am, Freeze Force received an anonymous tip regarding a possible hideout in Promepolis, on 68_ _th_ _Street and 13_ _th_ _Avenue. At 1:44 a.m., the Force was outside, ready to take them down.’_

It’s the usual. The raiding, with some interference and defiance, but ultimately, defeat and arrest. There’s praise about how no one was killed, not even the Burnish, and then they’re gone.

He groans and tosses the phone back on the nightstand. Is he supposed to just turn himself in? Is that it? Governor Kray endorsed him; if he admits what he is, it’d make him look bad.

Yet the longer he goes without saying anything, the harder it is to hide. It’s already been a tiresome three months of finding empty lots or underground tunnels so that he can set some boxes or trash cans on fire. He hasn’t slept properly, in fear of accidentally igniting himself and taking down the whole building with him. And he’s been dodging cameras at work, from the others, so that they didn’t know he’s controlling flames and extinguishing them.

The mini-fridge dings at him, and he shuts it after shoving the ice cream back. He lies back down in bed, after checking the equipment. He’s got about an hour to sleep before he has to wake up again.

Three months ago, he had been a rising hero. And he still is, according to everyone.

_‘You must burn.’_

The voices are back. They’re right next to eardrums, maybe in the depths of his brain. _Burn this, burn that, burn himself and the world—_

“Shut up,” he mumbles back, throwing an arm over his face. “Only souls and hell are s’pposed to burn, damn it.”

He hasn’t killed anyone yet. He hasn’t destroyed anything yet.

_‘Burn it all.’_

“ _Not now_ ,” Galo hisses through his teeth, “later.”

Later as in never, hopefully

He licks the corner of his mouth, pistachio lingering. It’s almost smoky, like the flames have somehow made it into all his senses.

Is it disturbing that he finds he doesn’t mind it?

**.**

[By Goldy](https://twitter.com/clockfairie/status/1266471639232872451)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole quote: “The universe, which is the same for all, has not been made by any god or man, but it has always been, is, and always will be—an ever-living fire, kindling itself by regular measures and going out by regular measures.”


	2. ( I )

**( I )**

ＬＩＯ，

The ratio of children to adults was about the same. Someone does keep a list of people living—hiding, this is not true living, not until they are recognised and not hunted down—in the volcano hideout, but he hasn’t looked at it for a while. And not all the children are Burnish; some came with their parents that became such, and didn’t want to be separated. When you look at a group of kids, chasing each other while screaming at the top of their lungs, you couldn’t tell the normal from Burnish.

Even in a place like this, there are no indications Burnish are any different. They look the same as humans. They do human things and have human schedules, and contrary to popular belief, they don’t settle every argument with fires or have hot tempers. 

During the few hours he sets aside every so often for doing absolutely nothing, he wanders. Everyone knows who he is, and in the earlier days, they had been hesitant to speak with him, but as of right now, he gets greetings left and right, as well things offered to him. He turns it down; partially courtesy, but partially because things are still rationed. 

He inquires after people; was there anything they needed, any injuries or deaths, if issues were resolved? And usually, they assure him, everything is good.

It’s a thin sort of hope, a chance of a future. The volcano is a wall, but if Freeze Force ever took a closer look, it’d be the end. They’ve been good at covering their escapes, but slip-ups happen too often. The fact Mad Burnish is the last terrorist group and the fact this is the largest Burnish community attests to that.

Pity they can’t put up permanent barriers with the flames.

Lio ends up at one of the more rundown areas, to watch the kids. They’re scraggly, but had more energy than he did at their age. More nimble too, with the way they’re scaling up broken cement and pipes.

Eventually, they do see him, and they all come crowding around him.

“Did you save more people, Lio?”

Kids were the only ones to call him that; everyone else exclusively uses “Boss” and sometimes “Fotia.”

He leans against a support beam. “A few more, just yesterday.”

“My dad thinks you should really be taking out some of the bad guys for good.”

“Well, is he part of Mad Burnish?”

“No, he trips over his own feet in the morning.”

“Then he’s free to think what he wants, and I’m free to do what I want.” And Lio’s not even particularly annoyed at this statement. Plenty of Burnish had death on the mind, with good reason. “But he’s welcome to talk to me directly.”

The kid giggles. “Nah.”

He thought as much.

There’s something about the way children look up to him, with their eyes wide and concentrated. They stand close, but not too close. They ask him about everything, beg for stories, and sometimes request things. Today, he has nothing except words, but they clamour for the fourth thing he can offer.

“Can you show us your flames?”

“No one’s got flames like yours, Lio.”

“They’re the prettiest!”

“Fire can’t be pretty—

“That depends.” He flicks his hand out, and produces a small dancing flicker of pink and green, with flecks of blue and yellow. The children crowd in a bit closer. “What do you think?”

“I mean, it’s kinda pretty…”

He makes the flame twist a bit higher. “It can be anything you want it to be.” A small version of himself now stands on his palm, like a figurine. “They’re not good at listening, but the more you talk to them, they will.” He morphs the shape back into its usual angular, jagged form. "There's nothing wrong with calling it beautiful if you think it is"

“Can you teach us something?”

“Well, I don’t know…” Teaching isn’t really his thing, and almost everything off the top of his head is too violent. He doesn’t want this place accidentally burning down just because some kid got too enthusiastic.

A chorus of ‘please’', sleeve-tugging, and wistful eyes are his doom. Lio looks down at their faces. “How many of you can start fires?”

Nearly all the hands go up.

“How many of you can put out your own flames?”

The hands stay raised.

“What about putting out other people’s fires, or a huge group of fires?”

There’s only two hands up. “That’s hard. It’s like…trying to catch lizards." The girl who has her hand still raised, scrunches her nose. "Or grasshoppers.”

Lio gestures at a boy. “Can you set that broken plank on fire?”

The kid does it well enough. He conjures a small flame between his fingers, and successfully directs it. When the piece of wood is about halfway ignited, Lio holds his hand out, and concentrates. It goes out immediately.

“Try to think of it like catching a small fish, and you have to keep it from dying until you can get it to a bucket. Too much force, and it’ll go out of control. Too little, and it’ll remain burning, until someone else can stop it.” That’s probably too long of an explanation for children.

“Can you show us again?”

He does, a total of five times. By the end of it, half of them can put out his flames, especially if they worked together. He leaves them there, glad he remembers something that’s not as…wild as everything else.

All too soon, Gueira is demanding his attention. “They’re getting more aggressive,” he says. A can of soda is in his hand.

“Freeze Force?”

“Hm-hm. I wasn’t really keeping track, but someone else pointed out it’s gotten more crowded here, and looking at the news, they’re picking up the pace.”

“Do you think they’ll take more drastic measures?”

“They might, but we still don’t know what’s happening to everything they’re taking.” Beyond the surety of experimentation…they can’t all be for that

But they wouldn’t put it past someone like Kray Foresight, and they knew it.

Gueira passes the can to Lio, and he takes a sip before handing it back. “Any insight from the last guy you talked to?” The vague fizz of soda mixed with lemons is lukewarm against his tongue

“No.”

“Damn.” He hates not knowing. He hates this suspended, uncertain future. This place could fall so easily, so quickly.

“Boss…about those kids.”

“What about them?”

“I thought we went over this. The whole thing about using your flames.”

“Only for certain purposes, and only when we can’t help it.” When the whispers were louder than any sirens, and sparks would literally be jumping out of his pores, it felt like. “It was a teaching session.”

The can crunches in Gueira’s fingers. “Could’ve asked me or Meis—”

“It’s _fine_.” Gravel and sand scrape under his feet as he twists away. “It’s important they know at least that.”

Sometimes, it’s like they burned unseen. Invisible flames, radiating off them. Or maybe it’s because Burnish are connected somehow, and they can pick up on each other’s emotions. Or maybe Gueira’s just bad at hiding them and he’s frowning a lot. He’s clenching his teeth, soda can basically scrap metal in his hand.

“Fine. Next time I should make you give them a fireworks show. The flashiest one, if that’s not too hard.” Lio offers this, words harsh, but there’s no bite in his actual voice.

“Hey, we can be showy if we want!” Gueira’s jaw relaxes, and he tosses the can away. “We’re not doubting your capabilities, Boss, but we need you. If you end up being the only one or something…”

Deliberate pause there.

The only one left. The only Burnish who can possibly do something. And maybe, save them. And the flames grip the back of his neck, to tell him, _‘save us too.’_

Lio swears he can feel a headache creeping into his temples. “I’m going out. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Too loud?”

“Mm.” More recently, it seems like they’re all a bit touchier with the voices. Maybe it’s a sign that the flames know something they don’t.

Right now he’s going to faceplant in a sand dune and blast it apart. Maybe two sand dunes, if he’s lucky to find them.

**.**

ＧＡＬＯ，

Stepping into his old elementary school is like being forcibly thrown back more than ten years. The stairs were the same, the hallway lined in lockers in the same faded beat-up red. The floor is still unevenly patched in discoloured tiles that squeaked under every kind of shoe. Galo stomps a foot, and it still squeaks. A poster is clinging to a wall for dear life by one corner, and he nearly fixes it.

But it feels like there’s smoke rising from his hands so he shoves them into his pockets and concentrates on the lines of the tiles.

That’s it, one step after another.

“Galo.”

Aina’s shoulder lightly brushes against his arm. “Principal’s office first, then assembly room.”

“Hey, what happened to avoiding the principal?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just how many times did you end up in there?”

“Oh, y’know, here and there.” He flashes a smile. “Rebellion’s healthy for the soul and helps with growth and all that.”

“Sure it does.”

“You’re telling me you never ended up in the principal’s office.”

“I did! But it wasn’t because I was in trouble—mostly. I might’ve blackmailed this kid because he took a pic up my skirt, and word got out…”

“What happened?”

“Suspension for him, essay for me. Apparently blackmailing is bad.”

But blackmailing is handy. Look at him, he’s blackmailing himself. If he’s good, word won’t get out that he’s not a normal human being (anymore).

“Hey, Galo.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re spacing out again. You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m…” He pulls his thoughts together. “Rehearsing what I’m gonna say.”

“Ah, I nearly forgot.”

The meeting with the principal is…uneventful. They make small talk, go over what’s to be said, and they’re escorted to the assembly room, which still smells like old brown carpet and bleach remains. The only differences are the fire extinguishers under every seat, and at least four next to the stage.

Galo wishes this room has windows.

A bell rings, and before long, kids trickle in, behind their teachers. They’re loud and small, uniforms not quite uniform, some shoving, others shuffling. They see him and Aina, and he can hear their loud whispers.

_‘It’s him!’_

_‘I can’t believe they really got them.’_

_‘She’s even cuter than she looks on TV!’_

_‘Those are really stupid pants but he doesn’t look bad in them.’_

_‘I thought he’d be shirtless.’_

Children will be children. He hides his laughter by clearing his throat. “Lively bunch, huh?”

Aina smiles behind her hand. “Hopefully they listen.”

After a few more stragglers, the principal introduces them. Aina goes first, and Galo concentrates on her mouth. How she forms the words. The cadence of her voice, and the easy, smooth flow of her sentences. She is normal, if not slightly tense in her back and how fingers are clenched together.

Normal. He can do normal. He’s been normal longer than he’s been Burnish.

_Come on, Galo. Think of your matoi. Think of Burning Rescue. Think about Ignis, Varys—_

The mic is handed to him, he taps it.

_—Remi, Lucia, Aina, don't let them down—_

“Hey.” His voice echoes. It doesn’t shake. “Galo Thymos here!”

_—and the Gov. Don’t let him down. Don’t listen to the flames._

“Raise your hand if you _don’t_ know who I am.”

Giggles sweep across the room.

“Perfect. Means you’ve aaaallll seen what we do, and Aina here gave you guys the rundown of who’s on the team and what we specialise in. So—” Galo hands the microphone back to the principal, takes a deep breath, and throws all his energy into his words. “it’s time to make this more fun. You cool with that?”

The cheering always puts him at ease. Kids were usually so honest in their feelings, more willing to listen. Impulsive, sure. Reckless, yes. But when they were trying to their best, that’s nothing to sneeze at.

“Someone tell me the basics of fire safety.” Thank goodness he has this memorised; this is the eighth school they’ve been at, and it won’t be the last. He throws the questions hard and fast, and they keep up.

It’s the barrage that helps. It’s why he loves his work, the active, strenuous pace that keeps him focused on what’s in front of him. He gets to demonstrate, lunging across the stage with exaggerated moments.

And meanwhile, he squashes down the voices telling him to burn, asking him why he’s against them, if they’ve chosen him. Why he won’t listen. They wriggle in his grasp, but he’s always been pretty good at ignoring things if he’s set his mind set.

The half hour passes, and after shaking hands once more with the principal, they’re out, he excuses himself to go sleep in the back of the firetruck.

Being in the sight of people used to be all right. He had liked being an example of passion, of following his heart and helping people. He had liked the uniform, the lights, the sounds, the arguments with Lucia. But now the attention worries him; cameras can pick up what the human eye can’t, and one of these days, he might just slip up.

At the end of the day, just before they all part their separate ways, he stops Aina. “Hey. What do you think if I took a long vacation.”

“A long vacation? How long of a vacation would you need?” Aina tilts her head at him.

“I dunno. A few weeks?” If a few weeks were enough to learn how to control the flames, maybe get rid of them—or something. He’s got no plans. “It’s just a thought.” More like wistful thinking. Everyone knows the flames didn’t go away. You died using them, or you get locked up.

“Are you thinking about visiting another country? Travel’s still restricted.”

“I know.” Not that there’s much to see; so much had been destroyed over the past thirty years. Landmarks, gone before he was even born.

Heat curls into the palm of his hand and he breathes out slowly, willing it to dissipate with his exhale.

“Like I said, just a thought.”

He can fix this. He has to.

 **.**


	3. ( II )

**( II )**

ＬＩＯ，

He hates metropolitans. He hates most cities, in fact. Discounting the one he was raised in.

Most of all, he hates Promepolis. It’s dense, fake, and anti-Burnish. Built on the ruins of a by-gone city, encrusted in technology of Foresight—even the air hurts his lungs, like it’s been tainted in ice and Freeze Force presence. And over all of it looms one particular building that is square/rectangular, pristine, solid—everything they’re not.

Lio encases his head in a helmet, a less elaborate form of the one he usually prefers to manifest. Gueira and Meis follow suit. For an hour or two, they can pretend to be what they’re not. He breathes, the smell of ash and smoke warm and comfortable within the helmet.

Earlier in the day, they had gone over the plan once, twice—until the last minute possible. Just the three of them, no backup, no inside jobs, no other allies. They’re here to make a point. The prison in the mountains, the one they’ve tried to scale up but been halted by so many barriers, until one night Meis made a comment.

_ ‘The only people seeing the inside are the ones that get caught.’ _

It’s a high risk; they might not even end up there. Kray might choose to execute them or something first. Or maybe use them for other purposes. At least they’ll go out in style, because today, he’s told himself, Meis, and Gueira—to not hold much back. Keep a bit of reserve for the latter part of the plan, yes. But while they’re on the news? Give them a good show of their power.

_ ‘Can we do the snakes? Let’s do the snakes.’ _

_ ‘Gueira, it’s technically not a snake. It’s more like a multi-headed dragon.’ _

_ ‘Snakes are dragons without legs, Meis.’ _

_ ‘Those are lizards.’ _

_ ‘…dragons without wings?’ _

_ ‘Pretty sure that’s still a lizard, too. Or gator.’ _

_ ‘Stop it. Both of you. Just call it a dragon. They’re related, anyway.’  _ He ended up having to step into that argument because it’s just a convenient shape they use. Years of control has taught them to make anything out of their flames, but he’s found with this approach, people were the most afraid. Dragons are fire beings after all, so the association with danger works.

And most importantly, it’s ostentatious enough to make a point. It’s time the world took a good look at them, especially the three of them.

Lio waits until it’s precisely four, and they begin. 

Usual procedure first; set a building on fire, leave the doors and exits free, make some explosions, sit back, and wait until either Burning Rescue or Freeze Force shows up. He prefers the former, honestly. He’s seen the news; they do place more emphasis on the rescue part, and they carry the lightest of anti-Burnish weapons. But he’s only run into them once or twice. Freeze Force simply has more of the funds and support from Kray due to their aggressiveness. Government bias is real, and in any case—they’re making their move.

_ ‘Are the blueprints updated?’ _

_ ‘Up until the last renovation. There’s enough staircases.’ _

_ ‘Good.’ _

They’re at the building—Foresight Pharmaceuticals. It’s honestly not special; it’s the same make and mostly same height as the others. Unremarkably shiny.

Lio stares up at it, hands in his pockets.

“Don’t make the building collapse,” he says, just above a whisper. “And remember—”

“No killing. We gotcha.” Meis salutes him with a flash of his fingers. “See you in fifteen minutes.”

Gueira follows closely. “Don’t get too bored, Boss.”

Lio lets himself transform the helmet all the way, the visor warping into a shiny snarl. “Not unless you keep me waiting.” 

The flames hum, settled right underneath his skin.  


**~**

It goes well. One minute, normalcy. The next, chaos.

He sits on his bike, basking in the smell of the Burnish flames. It’s smoky, but also earthier in scent than usual fire. Maybe more volcanic? Certainly brighter, and the sound and sight of it sends the voices in his head into an incomprehensible clamour.

But he knows what they want—and he gives it to them. He inhales as much oxygen as his lunge would allow, and follows his generals. Gravity and physics are nothing to him, not when he’s transformed. The noise of the flames rings sharply, and then fades away, pacified.

It’s ironic, how peace is found in destruction. He watches the people huddled on the roof, as well as the red and blue flashes. Surprise—Burning Rescue is first today.

He can pick out the individuals, especially the one with extremely spiky and extremely blue hair, ridiculous mecha, and ridiculous presentation.

_ ‘Is he an idiot? Yeah, he’s an idiot.’ _

But it’s this type of guy that can be either underwhelming or extremely volatile. They’re loud, they’re outrageous, but they think fast and act fast. There’s a potential this will be fucked up, or go exactly the way they want.

In a blink of an eye, Meis and Gueira are defeated. They’re going easy on this guy, of course, since they promised. Lio could feel them restraining the flame, like holding their breath and letting it dissipate. He can basically sense the pulse of their heart, matched to his.

And yet, there’s an irregularity, in the air, like discordant notes.  


Burnish energy, running through the three of them, has a familiarity. The year of running alongside them, sharing in the same company, healing and practicing, has made it so. But the air right now is heavier, anxiously wound and ready to be set off with a spark.

Lio’s blade snaps against the other’s—Thymos? That was his name—weapon, and it feels as if he’s slapped in the face by that heaviness.

_ Ignore it, ignore it. _ He’ll analyse it later. Right now it’s the time for a merry chase, shattering glass and concrete. He can almost autopilot this part, his movements snappy and measured.

Let them think they’ve won, let them take this advantage.

His helmet breaks off; the sun hits him in the eye, and he grimaces.

_ ‘You’re only a kid!’ _

_ ‘Look who’s talking.’ _

Amusing. Neither of them are actually children.

But now that part of his face is free, the outside world is no longer encased in flames. He glares at Thymos, and tries to place the heavy feeling.

He suspects.

“You’re not normal,” Lio says, “are you?”

Galo Thymos’ gleam of triumph morphs into several different expressions, but before Lio can say anything else, he’s coughing from the force of ice and cold striking his frame.

Well, he’ll visit that later. Maybe on the long ride to prison.

**.**

ＧＡＬＯ，

_ ‘You’re not normal,’ _ the terrorist says,  _ ‘are you?’ _

It stings.

_ You’re okay. You’re okay. _

The shower is so cold that his face hurts and he has full body shivers that rattle his teeth, bringing tears to his eyes. Or maybe he cried even before he turned the water on. Salt mixes with tap, and he bangs his forehead into the wall as he spits water out in between his gasps.

Today, he had nearly given away his secret.

When he holds his Matoi, the voices are quieter. It helps him remember his job and intentions. The metal in his hands is like his keeper. If it gets too warm, he knows he has to tone it down. And when he has Matoi Tech on, it’s like he’s surrounded in safety, a wall to keep him from others.

But today, seeing the flames, in the appearance of dragons bearing down on him, it was like a catalyst. Galo announced more loudly than usual, might’ve abused his mech a bit more. He threw himself into this role, clinging to it.

And yet it feels like it all melted away when he confronted the leader of Mad Burnish. Angular, shiny iridescent black armour, meant to intimidate. The sword that was almost holographic and too bright but could cut through his armour.

A feeling in him that had risen, sitting in his chest and begging to be let out. Like a pressure that was put on and the flames in him were begging to respond, to show themselves off.

_ ‘You’re not normal, are you?’ _

_ Why don’t you say that louder, _ he thinks, smacking the shower controller off and wiping his face.  _ Not like you’re normal, either. _

He’s still shivering. 

The heat in his body remains, poised. 

Maybe he should shoot himself with one of the ice weapons? Haha, Lucia might like to see that.  Galo scrubs at his hair with a towel, watching water drip down his legs. Some of them make it to the floor; others evaporate against his skin.

He rubs the rest away.

_ ‘I’ll put you out with my burning soul.’ _

He’s said that so often, and he still does. But does he do it, really? The buzz of the flames is annoyed, like a mosquito. A little dulled though, thanks to the shower. If only it would go away.

“Galo?” Remi appears at the entryway. “Are you done? The Captain’s asking for you.”

“All done and ready to go!” He strikes a pose, cheerfulness formed in his voice.

“…put your clothes on first.”

He glances down. 

Oh. 

Yeah, that’s kinda important… 

Galo throws them on, and they head for Ignis’ office.

What Remi doesn’t tell him is who’s waiting at the other end of the phone.

**~**

_ ‘You’ve always been my hero.’ _

How many times has he said those words?

The Governor’s office is less of an office and more of a…space. Maybe an installation, like an art piece? And the main focus of it is the man sitting at the desk. White on white, so stark and sterile. Every little sound, down to his belt clicking when he walks and the fabric of his pants swishing against his legs, is loud against his ears. Blair, however, is almost completely silent.   


It’s a good thing people can’t hear the flames. They’re fascinated by this place, or maybe that’s not the right word.

Warmth grips his throat, and he swallows, with difficulty.

They’re  _ agitated _ .

Or maybe it’s just him. The desk and the man are closer as Galo approaches, and he can’t understand why he feels like this. But maybe it does have to do with the fact he’s hiding something about himself, something completely opposite of what he’s supposed to be.

Kray Foresight is imposing even behind that which he sits behind. His face is serene, as usual.

Galo raises his hand, and remembers to smile. “Hey, Gov.” The vice on his throat tightens; he coughs to dislodge it. “I’m right on time.”

“You are.” The serenity remains. Kray stands, and Galo has to tilt his head up. “How are you?”

“Doing great! I’d tell you about it, but it was all over the news already…hehe.”

“Indeed.”

“Was it difficult?”

“Only when I fought the leader. I think he said his name was Leon—Lio?” He can't remember his last name. “He put up a good fight. But now they’re all outta the way!”

“Yes, it was impressive.”

The trick is to watch Kray’s eyebrows and mouth, since his eyes and voice gave away almost nothing. “Only because you’ve set such a good example.”

“Someone has to lead.”

Galo rubs the back of his head. “Too bad the Freeze Force showed up like that. They said it was out of our jurisdiction—was it really?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But Ignis sorted that out, didn’t he?”

“He did. But it’s still not fair.” Freeze Force was always way too rough. The Mad Burnish were already bound, there wasn’t any need to literally throw them into the back of the truck. “Burning Rescue was there first!”

Kray smiles. “I know. And that’s why I’ve made arrangements.”

“Arrangements?”

“That the credit goes to Burning Rescue—and you, especially.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I’m going to be presenting you with a medal in two days.”

A few months ago, it would’ve been the best news. He might’ve screamed then and there and danced in joy, or a hundred other days he could've reacted.

Now, Galo’s just staring up at Kray, unsure.

“Speechless?”

“Ah. Yeah.”  _ Get it together, Galo.  _ He tries for a laugh, and thankfully that comes easily to him. “I’m just…wow. A medal? Only me?”

“You arrested that last of Mad Burnish, no? After thirty years, they’ve finally been subdued.” Kray puts his hand on Galo’s shoulder, the weight sinking in. “You deserve it.”

He finally finds his words. “Thanks, Gov. Do I need to make a speech?”

“No, a few words will be enough.”

Good, less prep. Galo pulls his shoulders back, and looks directly at Kray Foresight. “I appreciate it. I…won’t let you down.”

And Kray smiles again. “I know.”

It’s like a dream. He doesn’t hear anything, doesn’t notice anything as he walks away, Blair next to him. The elevator ride down. The steps outside, past the statue. It feels like both hours and seconds.

A hero? No, a liar.

Before he crosses the street, he has the urge to look back.

From the window, Kray Foresight is visible.

He’s only a speck, too high up, but Galo swears he can see his eyes gleaming.

_ Must be imagining things. Guess I really am tired. _

Galo waves, and resists the urge to take longer strides.

**.**


	4. ( III )

**( III )**

ＬＩＯ， 

It’s as bad as he imagined it to be, that prison. It’s built like a giant freezer, there’s people dying, people unable to heal themselves, and people disappearing to who-knows-where. He thinks about smashing all the faces of the guards. He thinks about burning their eyeballs and charring them to bone bits and dust. All of them, have thought about actual murder. Some have.

He once asked Meis and Gueira, if they killed before under the previous Mad Burnish leader.

_‘Do you want us to answer for real?’_

_Meis had been tossing a flame back and forth between his hands. Gueira, half-asleep and head propped on Meis’ shoulder._

_‘Everyone’s heard of the Big Bad Mad Burnish. But I want to hear it from you two.’ Only a week, and he’s asking the hard questions._

_‘Not intentionally,’ Gueira hedged. ‘There was an…explosion someone else set off. We bought the explosions.’_

_Meis nodded. ‘I thought it was gonna be for this canyon we were excavating. But apparently not.’_

_‘So not actual killing.’_

_The two of them had looked at each other. “No,” Meis finally said._

_“Mhm. All right.” Lio went back to scraping watery noodles from the side of the can._

_‘Boss, what if we said we did? You’d do something about it?’_

_‘No.’ The can plunked against the floor. ‘That’s in the past. You did what you had to.’_

_‘Well, it takes a talent to not kill. Kinda amazing you accomplished that.’_

_The images of people that had arrested him, locked him up, and done worse, came to mind. ‘I did. Once.’ When the flames had been uncontrollable, bursting out of him like blood from a wound, unable to be staunched. ‘Guess that’s why I asked.’_

In a way, they served the flames, unwillingly. Controlling them took so much, and you died before you were forty, if you were lucky. Lose control, and you could die the same day the mutation happened to you. He’s actually amazed that he still has time left. There’s no exact measurement, but everyone claimed you’d know when your end was coming. Intuition of demise, or something.

The breakout had been successful, the prison completely in ruins. Guards were left alive, and all the Burnish flown out of there. He couldn’t believe how easy it had been, but maybe Freeze Force was getting sloppy. These people they rescued, they moved in as one, huddling in a group. It made sense, if they were together like this for so long. Only after they landed in the forest did they start separating, dazed but finally independent. They stared up at the sun, touched the trees…some cried.

_‘How long have all of you been here?’ he asked a woman._

_She shook her head. ‘Weeks and weeks? Months? This is my first time seeing my hands again.’ Her fingernails were ragged and long._

Except the injured.

When he goes out into the nearby town to steal supplies, he resists the urge to set on fire everything in his way. He smashes a window open and makes out with food and bandages, keeping to the shadows. Okay, maybe two or three cars were left burning, but he’s trying.

It’s not fair.

It’s really not fair.

Lio comes back to find a surprise: the Burning Rescue member responsible for his capture is there, tied up and unconscious. The Burnish stand around him, looking down.

“Boss!” Gueira gestures wildly, as if Lio hasn’t seen. “We caught him with a gun.”

“Did he use it?” He places his bundles down, and the crowd parts for him.

“No, I knocked him out.”

Lio crouches down. “Next time, question someone before knocking them out. Who knows if he’s got a tracker or listening device on him.”

“Eh, you think this idiot is useful?”

“He might know something.” He prods the man—Galo, that was his name—in the cheek with his foot. No response. “Did you search him?”

“Not yet.”

Guess he might as well do that. He goes through the pockets and pouches, and aside from the gun that Gueira took earlier, there’s only a set of keys, a crumpled half-eaten bag of chips, some gum, some other half-melted candy, and a lot of lint and random coins. And a name card bearing GALO THYMOS in block letters on one side and a picture of his weird spear-thing on the other side. Hand-drawn, of course.

“A whole lot of nothin’. Figures.” Gueira snags the gum and pops it into his mouth. “Ew, cinnamon.”

“I don’t think he was sent after us. That’s not their job.” Lio leans back on his heels to look up at him. “He just happened to be here.”

The flames were whispering again. He frowns and strains to listen, and finds…resonation?

Hm.

Lio holds a flicker in his fingers, and pokes Galo again, on the tip of his nose.

“Boss, what are you—” Gueira begins, and pauses.

The flame doesn’t go out, or spread. It merely dances, as flames did, right on his nose.

“I knew it.” He douses it with a pinch of his fingers, and gets to his feet. “That explains a lot.”

Gueira, once again, waves his hands aggressively. “But he’s Burning Rescue! He _puts_ flames out!” He points at Galo with each word.

“Mhm. He sure does.”

“That makes no fucking sense.”

“When does this world make sense.” Lio sighs. “Tell me when he’s awake again. We need to talk.”

Hopefully this guy doesn’t start yelling as well. He’s tired of yelling.

**.**

ＧＡＬＯ，

He can count the number of times he’s been in perilous, life-threatening situations—outside of work, that is.

The first is when he was seven, and he fell out of a tree and broke three ribs, one arm, and his nose. The second is when he lost his parents and his home, saved only by Kray, and surprisingly, he had suffered no injuries. The third time was during a run while he was fifteen, when he saw some guys dragging a kid from his mother, guns in hand, and he was shot through the leg when stopping them.

The fourth time was today, when Galo stepped up onto the stage, and burst into flames.

…it was more dramatic than that, but right now, he’s just going. He has no helmet, almost no belongings, and he’s almost out of gas. He’s going to have to ditch the bike sooner or later. Over and over, the recently transpired events played in his mind.

_Kray had been so bright, brighter than everything else. More than the confetti, more than the people. His smile beckoned—no, commanded. And they cheered._

_They were cheering for him. Galo Thymos, Promepolis’ hero._

_He rehearsed the words. His palms were sweaty, and he could feel it beading at his forehead. He was the platform, ready to be summoned…_

_And the fire was there, right behind his ribcage, wrapping around his heart. The voices squeezed, and he stood up as straight as he could, fixing his eyes on the TV monitor._

_'Keep it together. Just for this. And then you can leave.'_

_So many people outside._

_So many people he could possibly kill. Sweat on his hands, on his neck, and his blood, pounding in his ears and head.  
_

_And then he heard his name, and the platform rose. With it the flames rose._

_He managed to focus on Kray, on his smile. The medal in his hands. The noise from the crowd was deafening, and everything was suddenly too hot, too bright, too white—_

_It felt like he had choked on the fire as it lit him up. Probably it was mad because he kept pushing it away but damn, what a fucking moment. Uncontrollably, it had exploded._

_The cheering turned into screams._

Galo doesn’t remember how he got off the stage, away from the crowds. He doesn’t remember if he looked at Kray, but he’s sure that the Governor’s horrified. He doesn’t remember much beyond him getting on his motorcycle, flinging his phone on the ground, and taking off before anyone showed up.

Maybe Aina had called his name. Maybe Kray had said something. Maybe they had tried to stop him, but he doesn't recall anyone grabbing at him.

But it’s all over; whatever career or reputation he had is now gone, scorched away.

And now, he’s staring at a group of Burnish, all them hollow-eyed and haggard. Silent. Someone had hit him in the back of his head; it still stings and causes dizziness to sink into his stomach when he moves too quickly. And his hands are tied behind his back, causing him to falter when he tries to sit.

“Awake?” A familiar voice says. 

He straightens, and nearly gags. Ugh, vertigo.

A figure, less worn-looking than the rest, is dark against the Burnish flames in the cave.

“You—you’re—Mad Burnish’s boss!” Ugh, that's so stupid to blurt out, but he just got hit over the head.

“Lio Fotia.” The animosity in his voice is more subdued compared to their first meeting, but nonetheless remaining. “I’ve already told you. Did you forget, Galo Thymos?”

Kinda. But he won’t forget it now, nor that face. Small compared to the fluffiness of his hair, and contrasting with his clothes that basically clung to his frame. A voice that was surprisingly deep. “You…escaped.”

“What gave it away?”

Galo can respond to sarcasm on a good day, but recently, he hasn’t had any of those. “I wasn’t looking for you, if you were wondering.”

“I guessed as much. You weren’t carrying enough.”

“I was…” He falters. Usually words come to him easily, but again, bad day. “…taking a trip. Nature’s nice, isn’t it?”

“When you have the time to enjoy it.”

Galo sighs, and leans his aching head against the cave wall. “Is it too much if I ask if you can let me go?”

“Depends on the reason. Why do you think we should listen.” 

“I won’t report you?”

Lio makes a derisive sound. “You captured me before, and you think I’d believe that?”

“I don't really have any advantages here.” Galo shrugs to the best of his abilities. “Just untie me, I’ll shake your hand, and we’ll go our separate ways. Good?”

“No.”

“Aww, really?”

“They might try to get information out of you, even if you promise to not say anything.” 

“Who, Freeze Force?”

“No, _him_.” Lio’s boots scrape against rock and sparks fly up. “Kray Foresight.”

The way he says his name with such revulsion and contempt gives Galo pause. “Why him? What’s he got to do with you?”

“You really don’t know.” 

He shakes his head once. “Know what?”

“Kray Foresight carries out experiments on us Burnish.”

Something icy and sharp seeps into him. “What? Experiments? You’re lying!”

Lio walks towards him, every footstep echoing. “What’s he done for you?”

“He saved my life.”

“Ah, did he. He’s killed more than he saved.”

“That’s not true—” And then Lio’s in front of him, and Galo blinks.

“You don’t have to believe me. But you can believe yourself, don’t you.” 

He’s too close; his legs could brush against Galo’s knees. Galo tries to play it cool. “Whaddya mean?”

“You’re denying it.”

“Denying what?”

Lio is suddenly at his level, grasping his chin. “This.” With his other hand, he rests it on Galo’s shoulder, and ignites both of them.

Galo shrieks, more out of a reflex than anything. “What the—”

“Relax.” Lio keeps his hands where they are. “It’s better like this.”

 _How is it better?_ He tries to loosen his shoulders, blinking through the bright lights dancing in his eyes.

“Isn’t it quieter?”

He had been about to retort, but then he stops. The voices are still there, but no longer grate and prickle. They’re like white noise, blanketing him together with the flames. The tension in him, from the months, is ebbing away. The warmth creeps into every inch of his body, soft but scratchy, and he can feel something in him reaching out to meet it— 

Lio lets go of Galo so abruptly that he pitches forward, smacking his forehead into the ground.

“You knew?” he manages to ask, slowly pulling himself back up. But the pain is leaving, dissipating. He’s able to move without being dizzy. Come to think of it, he’s not nauseated anymore from being knocked out. Is that a side effect of being Burnish?

“I had a feeling. And I tested that while you were asleep.” Lio pulls away, and Galo can see him more easily now.

“I’m not. You—” He tries again, “I’m not a terrorist.”

“Try revolutionist. Also,” Lio gestures at the people. “They’re the proof.”

Bandages on nearly everyone. The fear. The way they hold themselves. And they way they look at him—

Galo bites the inside of his mouth. “Suppose it’s true. You think he’ll also experiment on me?”

“That depends on how important are you to him. Is he going to pay a ransom if we make an announcement we’ve captured you?”

He says nothing, lowering his head.

Lio persists. “Is he going to agree to our terms if we use you?”

“What are your terms?”

“To be recognised as a people, and to have a place of our own, and no more arrests. Do you think he’ll give into to that?”

Again, he keeps his mouth shut. If he says anything more it’ll be stupid, because he doesn’t have the answer.

“Well?”

“Let me go with all of you.” Galo looks up again.

A flicker of surprise in those eyes. “…what?” 

“I can’t go back, I…sorta combusted in front of a million people, the Gov included. And…I don’t know what he’ll do. Maybe pardon me, maybe suspend me. I doubt he’ll experiment on me, if he really—I mean.” He breathes noisily through his nose. “Anyway, I don’t know a thing about being Burnish, so if I went with you…you could teach me? If that makes sense?”

Lio stares.

He stares back. It’s either that or he sits here until someone finds him before he dies of hunger or thirst or completely evaporates.

“That, by far, is the most roundabout way I’ve heard someone ask for help.”

Lio is still staring, and Galo’s beginning to twitch. “I’m trying here!”

“You’re definitely asking for help, yes?”

“Yeah, I am. If you think that’s possible?” His voice rises a bit. “It's been a while since it happened to me, and I don't know any other Burnish, personally. Anything better than me dunking my head into a freezer in the middle of the night. You guys can control it, yeah?”

He might be a little desperate, and it comes with the forced sleep deprivation. Seriously, he’ll take the help if it’s given.

“All right. Fine.” Lio flicks a hand, and the ropes fall away with a short burst of pink. “But you’re technically a prisoner, if Freeze Force or the Foundation comes looking for you.”

“Sure, sure.” Galo rubs his wrists. “Nothing about you sheltering me or teaching me. Got it.”

“You better not mind learning on the go. Most of us don’t have the luxury of real teachers.”

“I learn fast, don’t worry.”

One of the other guys that he captured earlier, the long-haired one, appears. “Boss, the trucks are here. We got three of them.”

“Let’s go.”

“We should make good time, it’s—” He notices Galo. “You!” 

“Hey! I’m Galo.” He puts this in as fast as he can, before he gets ignited again. Even throws in a huge grin. “I’m Burnish.”

The guy splutters, and points at Lio, then at Galo. “What?”

Lio sighs. “Meis, I’ll explain later. Go…help Gueira.”

“Boss…”

“He’s not lying. Go.”

“But earlier—”

“ _Later_.”

Meis looks as if he very much wants to punch Galo, but he goes, sparing a few backward glances.

“I’ll, uh, apologise to them about…that. The whole capturing thing.” He’s still grinning, but it’s rather painful. “Actually, sorry about that. I should say that to you, too.” 

“Apology accepted.” Lio’s voice is clipped. “You heard him; the trucks are here. Get in.”

“Want me to drive one of them?”

At first, he thinks Lio will say no. But then he’s given a sharp nod. “You’ll be the last one in the line. Don't fall behind.”

**.**


	5. ( IV )

**( IV )**

ＬＩＯ，

Thymos drives well enough. Lio did vaguely worry, seeing how he moved in a mech, but there’s been no accidents, and he follows at a safe distance.

What he finds annoying is the damn radio, turned up the possible highest volume, so loud that he can hear it from the first truck. And the singing—it’s not just Thymos. It’s everyone else, too. Someone in there was really, really out of tune, and he’s ready to put his hands over his ears.

Worst of all as that both Meis and Gueira know one of the songs and they join in (At least they’re in the right key, otherwise he would be setting this truck on fire). Lio ignores their glances, holding it in until they stop for a break. 

And he marches himself over to that damn truck.

“What are you doing?” he demands, as soon as Thymos opens the door.

“Keeping everyone’s spirits up!”

“By singing?”

“Yeah, if everyone joins it, it’s like we’re connected.”

“…we’re already connected. By the flames.”

“But singing’s good for the soul.”

He grits his teeth. “You might as well set the whole truck on fire. It’ll draw the same amount of  _ attention _ .”

“Oh. Sorry.” Thymos rubs the back of his head. “I’ll…turn it down? Can we still sing?”

“Fine. But roll up the windows, too.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

It sounds a bit odd, coming from someone who only days ago shot and arrested him. “And tell whoever’s singing badly to shut up.”

“Tell them to try to keep in tune, gotcha.”

Lio does not stomp his way back to his own truck, but he does slam the door shut, snatching the bottle of water from Meis.

Only a few more hours to go.

The old man they picked up is there, eyes large and nervous. Lio spares a glance in the rest of the truck, since they’re carrying the more frail and injured.

“Everything good back there?”

“Seems to be,” the man says.

Lio eyes him. “You’re an unusual sight.”

“S’ppose I am.” Bony fingers touch his arm. “It happened to me a few months ago. Burned up a whole building.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s a common story.”

So it is.

Meis nudges him. “Boss.”

“What?”

“You should sleep.”

“Later.”

Gueira, from the second row, prods his shoulder. “You didn’t sleep for two days, but me and Meis got in a few. An hour or two won’t hurt you.”

He pauses. “…all right. Wake me up if anything happens.”

Tight leather is not very comfortable, so he shrugs out of his jacket before folding his arms. The sun is up, barely. Pink rectangles dance in his vision, swimming a little.

He shuts his eyes.

**~**

By the time they reach the hideout, he’s learned more than he wanted to about Thymos—or Galo. He preferred everyone call him that.

For starters, he can eat the amount that Meis, Gueira, and Lio put together—and some more. That was five Burnish-scorched hamburgers patties gone, three power drinks, one protein drink, and more than a couple bags of chips.

Second, Galo is one of those perpetually cheerful people that doesn’t have trouble remembering a face, and was rather disarming. All the kids they rescued had become close, clinging to him. He can carry six of them, dragging them around until they’re laughing too hard to hold on.

Third, he’s an idiot, but not a blundering idiot. There’s levels of idiocy, and Galo’s not  _ stupid _ . Sure, he opens his mouth too often and just blurts shit out, but he’s a quick learner and his coordination isn’t bad. He can read a map, knows more than some basic first aid, and successfully helped disarm the one random police squad they ran into.

Lio has to admit he’s useful.

The bright red and yellow pants stick out. As does the hair. At least he’s wearing a shirt now…not that it hides much. There’s the one odd sleeve on his arm, and the clunky boots. And very expressive, very bright blue eyes.

Suppose he weren’t Burnish, he’s still on some different level from normal humans. Galo Thymos wasn’t meant for normalcy.

The final thing about him is that he’s been asking Lio about this and that and it’s driving him up a wall.

_ ‘So you can just make a motorcycle out of the flames? And it functions?’ _

_ ‘Yes.’ _

_ ‘How long does it last?’ _

_ ‘A while.’ _

_ ‘And the armour, and the weapons—’ _

_ ‘Yes. All of them.’ _

_ ‘You said that the flames help regenerate and they’re a part of you. I’ve seen you eat raw meat and it was fine. So do you guys ever…you know.’ _

_ ‘Ever what?’ _

_ ‘Pee? Does it just evaporate? I've never tried it but can it be done?’ _

He stopped answering after that. Does it look like he’s got a book called B _eing Burnish: 101_ with a nice handy list?

At the hideout, after making sure the injured were receiving care, he made a short announcement, welcomed the newcomers, and provided some news and information. And he had to say something about Galo.

_ ‘If anyone asks, he’s our prisoner. But in reality, he’s Burnish, which makes him one of us, so I don’t want to hear any disagreements about that.’ _

_ ‘And Galo Thymos doesn’t go back on his word—ever.’ _

There had been no intentions for Galo to say that.

And now Lio is tucked away in his private corner, trying to sleep. Or relax. Whichever one is easier. He lets a small flicker play on his fingertips, the tickle of it comforting against his skin.

He needs to plan their next attack. And he's about to fall asleep, u ntil he sees a silhouette appearing at the ragged bit of curtain separating him from this world.

“Knock, knock,” a familiar, annoying voice announces.

“What do you want?” He sits up, dragging his hand through his hair.

“To talk.”

“Didn’t we talk enough?”

“Nope.”

He sighs. “Come in. Don’t knock anything over.”

Galo ducks into the small opening, and pauses. Lio can tell he’s looking at this place. There’s three walls made of volcanic rock and concrete melted together, some battery powdered lights and candles, his clothes and some other personal belongings in a box, and his bed.

“Are you disappointed?”

“I mena was expecting more, since you’re the boss?”

“We’re on the run. We can’t exactly afford luxury here.”

“Ah, yeah. Sorry.” Galo sits on the ground, and mercifully fits into this space without breaking anything. “How long have you guys lived like this.”

“Too long.”

“You’re not very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Conversations.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I’m interrogating you for answers like this.” Galo waves a hand. “You’re not asking much about me.”

“Does it look like I’m interested?”

“Wouldn’t you want to know more about the person you’re gonna teach? Or about what kind of info I might have?”

Lio raises an eyebrow. “Information?”

“About the weapons we use, some stuff about Freeze Force.”

“Can you tell me anything about Kray Foresight?”

Is here that the happy expression disappears. “I actually don’t. He doesn’t really tell me much…about his matters.”

“Well, what does he tell you?”

“Sometimes he congratulates me, other times he gives me a task, and I report to him. Sometimes we talk about sports and I ask how he’s doing. But that’s it.” 

He’s not lying, Lio realises, since he can spot a liar pretty damn well after all this time. Galo’s one of those people who probably suck at lying…but he’s been hiding the fact he’s Burnish for this long.

He lasted longer than Lio did, actually. When he asked about control over the flame earlier, there had been a desperate tone to his voice.

But not using the flames is also a kind of control.

Maybe he has to give him a little more credit. Maybe.

“Uh…Lio? Fotia?” Galo is squirming; Lio realises he’s been staring. “Boss?”

“Lio is…fine. Or Boss.” More people could call him Lio, but they ust done. “Excuse me. I was thinking.” He clears his throat. “Talk then. About Burning Recuse. Or Freeze Force.”

And Galo launches into a rapidfire explanation, about the establishment, about the two distinct organisations and purposes. He actually knows quite a bit about the workings, and Lio mentally takes notes.

He’s halfway through the weapons part when he stops. “Oh. I…well.”

“What is it?” Lio asks.

Galo looks away. “I think I’m out of a job, now that I’ve said all that.”

“That’s what being Burnish is. We get kicked out of the lives we were living.” 

“It’s not fair.”

“It hasn’t been.  There’s some like you, who hide it pretty well. But most are found out rather quickly.”

“Why do the voi—I mean, the flames. Why do they want to burn?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you just have to?”

“I think you know what it’s like to not. You try and try, and you burn up anyway.” Lio folds his arms. “And it can’t be taken away. It leaves once we die.”

“Does it find another person to make them Burnish?”

Lio shrugs. “No one’s bothered to find out the details. They’re more interested in hunting us down.”

“Well, what if the Gov is looking for a cure? That building you destroyed was Foresight Pharmaceuticals.”

“I know.”

“Why target it if they’re possibly helping?”

He can feel annoyance creeping into his voice. “Because they’re not. No one is. Least of all Kray Foresight.” 

“But he—”

“He might’ve saved you. But anyone can do one right thing and a couple thousand bad things. He’s killed people.”

Galo glares at him. “Do you have proof?”

Lio stands. “It’s right out there. All those people. Me. You.” He points at Galo. “You ran, didn’t you? Because you don’t believe your own words.”

“But it’s possible.”

“It’s not. Go talk to some people. Listen to them. Or are you too stubborn?” His tone goes up.

So does Galo’s. “Funny, you’re too stubborn to listen to me, either. And you’re running, too. You’re a terrorist!”

Without thinking, his foot shoots out, aimed at Galo’s face.

Galo stops it without blinking, hand engulfing his foot and yanking.

For the first time in long while, Lio mentally curses his lack of imposing height as he slides, hitting his head on his makeshift bed and causing clouds of sand and dust to fly up. They both choke and fumble, and Lio bumps his chin on something neither soft nor solid as he tries to find his balance.

When the dust settles and they’ve both stopped coughing, he finds he’s ended up in Galo’s lap, foot still in hand. 

“Shit—sorry.” Galo smacks his elbow on something as he releases Lio’s foot, hurriedly helping him up. “You do have a point. But every Burnish here, they ran. Why run if you’re not guilty?”

Lio dust his jacket off. “We don’t kill. If you paid attention, we always leave an escape route.” Never mind what he did in the past, or what the old Mad Burnish did. He’s speaking about the now. They’ve come so far, and yet people still believe all Burnish were bad. “We ran because we want a place of our own.”

“Have you ever talked to the Gov?”

“Is he going to listen? No, don’t answer that.” Lio spits out gritty sand between his teeth in a small burst of flame. “He’s never come to us to ask what we want. So we’ll take it for ourselves.”

“What if I talked to him?”

What must it be like, to believe in someone that much? It’s not that Galo doesn’t doubt; Lio can see it in his eyes that he’s thought about all this. But he’s grasping at something, hoping and wanting.

Lio turns away. “I won’t stop you if you want to try. But you can’t keep trying to be for him or for us. You have to pick a side.”

Galo groans. “Aaah, I hate picking sides!” His boots stomp against the sand, kicking it up once more as he flings the curtain aside. “This conversation isn’t over! I’ll pick it up later!”

Hopefully not today. Lio lies back down on his bed, and sneezes.

What a guy. What a handful.

**.**

ＧＡＬＯ，

He’s very good at stomping. He’s good at being loudly angry.

“Who does Lio Fotia think he is?” Yup, he’s now yelling to himself. “Yeah, he might be Mad Burnish’s leader and yeah, he’s very fucking powerful, but he’s tiny, he’s stubborn, and he just tried to kick me in the face—” He stomps some more. “And he won’t listen to me!”

Maybe he should talk to the flames, it might be more productive.

“You guys are listening, right? Tell me if what he just told me is true. Aren’t you—we—all connected?”

…

“Anything? Please?”

The flames are too many, murmuring in a low cacophony. He finds a dark corner, and with some difficulty, conjures up a flame between his hands that won’t engulf him entirely. It sputters and jumps in erratic patterns. Twitchy. Like him.

“Hello, hey hi. Good morning? Afternoon? Sooooo…can you?”

_ We can feel everything. We must burn. _

“That’s not an answer. Is the Gov—is Kray Foresight killing people?”

_ If you can feel us, you will understand when you burn. _

“Aaauuugh—!” He smacks his hands to his head, the flames disappearing in sparks of pink and blue that makes him sneeze. “Damn it, do I have to ask him directly?”

No, not an option when he’s here right now. Maybe he should just do what Lio said and talk to people? 

Actually, he's good at that most of the time.

When Galo wanders and finds the level that is crowded with people, he has a moment, a trace of fear when he sees them. 

And then he relaxes; no need to worry about randomly setting anything on fire. Everyone here is like him.

They’re a little wary, of course. He sees them looking at his uniform, their guarded expressions. Some whispers. It’s only after he forms a flame in his hand once again that they seem more reassured. There’s no way to fake it, nor deny the resonating voices they share. And the voices aren’t much clearer, so Galo ends up ignoring them as he slowly coaxes his way into conversation.

_ ‘How long have you been here?’ _

_ ‘What happened when you first became Burnish?’ _

_ ‘Were you on the run? Were you captured?’ _

By the end of the day, he’s gotten some answers. Most people had been here a few months, only a few more than a few years. Lio did not establish this hideout, but they had various leaders before, and he was the most recent. There was an almost even number of children to adults, and the number of orphans—or kids whose parents abandoned them was a third of that. There was almost no one over fifty, except maybe twenty people. And most of them were discovered within hours of manifesting Burnish flames, were captured, and subsequently freed by Mad Burnish.

As for the one thing he really wants an answer to?

_ ‘I was getting transported somewhere when Mad Burnish busted me out.’ _

_ ‘My cousin and me got seperated, and I never found them.’ _

_ ‘Some doctors evaluated us for something. Dunno what.’ _

Galo treats himself to some potato soup that surprisingly had good flavour. This place even has electricity, but most people seemed to prefer the flames. He chews on the spoon, and realises he hasn’t really figured out where he’s even sleeping. Or where to get a toothbrush. Also, he could use a shower. The sand’s gotten into his socks, and probably in his nose and ears.

He’s turned in his used utensils and is ready to go wandering again when he sees the two guys that are right under Lio in ranking. Or position. Whatever they were; Ignis had referred to them as generals, but there had been no indication Lio used those terms. Their names, Galo has to think for a second, but finally comes up with them.

They’re talking.

A moment of more observation, and he can pick out that they’re agitated.

Eavesdropping is impolite, but Galo steps closer.

“—n’t think she’ll make it.” Gueira has his arms folded as he hunches forward.

Meis sighs. “She might if we—”

“You know we can’t do it often.”

“What if it’s us.”

“Do I look like I know how much time’s left?”

Footsteps; someone is running towards them, calling their names.

“You guy gotta come quickly! She’s breathin’ all weird.”

“Shit.” Meis kicks at the sand. “You go find Boss. I don’t want to drag him into this, but we have to try.”

“What about you? Are you really going to—”

“Someone has to.”

He watches Gueira’s expression tighten, and he looks as if he wants to say more, but he takes off.

It’s then that Galo decides steps out; Meis turns, and glares. 

“Oh, you.”

“Hi, yes—it’s me.” Galo holds his hands up. “Hey. I kinda caught the end of that.”

“Yeah? And?” Meis is already walking away.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Is someone hurt?”

“If they were, why the hell do you care?”

“What did you think Burning Rescue did? I have some training.” Galo catches up to Meis, and grabs his arm. “Let me help.”

Meis yanks his arm away, eyes dark. “Training?”

“CPR, first aid—that sort of stuff?”

“Not sure that’s all that helpful when it comes to us. Also, we’ve already got a doctor.”

“But it might. You guys—I mean, we’ve still got human bodies.” He exhales noisily through his nose. “I’m sorry about arresting you guys.”

“Hmm.” Meis actually stops. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Your flames. Show me.”

It’s getting easier, to open his hand and watch the little sparks form themselves. Meis has grey eyes, Galo notices, in the little burst that lights up between their shared space   


“Two…three? Okay. Fine.” Before Galo can ask what he’s counting, Meis is heading down for some stairs.

They go low.

And lower.

Meis brings him to a room that has a sign scratched on the outside of it; seems like they have a clinic here. 

A woman in a white coat greets Meis anxiously.  “She’s not doing well at all,” she says.

“What about—”

“Gone.”

Galo spots the figure lying on a bed; something about her seems familiar, and he approaches.

The doctor is still talking. “She was responding earlier, but when the sun set, she got weaker.”

He squints, tilts his head—and then it hits him.

“I know her!” He exclaims. Ah, that was too loud. Both the doctor and Meis are looking at him. “I mean, I got her out of a building once, and then I found out she actually set that building on fire.”

On his first day, too. And she had burned his arm.

That had been months ago.

But she had been fine then. Now? Completely swathed in bandages, hair messily falling about her. Her breaths are minuscule, chest hardly moving. A heart monitor beeps, ominously slow.

He has a completely separate revelation. “…she was in the cave, right?”

“Yeah.” Meis crosses his arms. “We got her out of the prison.”

It’s awful, the way she looks.

“And you really think they’re not experimenting on us.”

“I didn’t say—!” he begins.

The girl coughs.

The doctor is bent over, speaking into her ear. Meis has crouched down, whispering also. He's taken her hand in his.  “Maybe I should do it,” he says urgently, voice halfway above a whisper.

“No, you can’t. We need you.”

“Then—” Meis suddenly looks at Galo. “Okay. He can. He’s got enough.”

He blinks. “Enough what?”

The doctor rubs the side of her face. “We don’t have enough time to explain, but basically…you need to share your flames with her.”

He gapes. “Okay…? That's a thing? How do I do that?”

Meis taps his mouth. “Here, to there.” He points to the girl, who is weakly clutching her chest. “Mouth-to-mouth.”

“…for real?”

“No, not actual CPR. She’s beyond that.” The doctor sighs. “But it's one of the few things that save us Burnish. Think of it like transferring energy.”

Which he’s never done. Galo looks from Meis to the doctor, and down at the girl.

“And neither of you…can?”

“Shouldn't. Not can't. I'd explain more, but there's no time. If you’re too scared to—”

“Meis, no. The Boss needs you.”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it.” Galo kneels down, and supports himself against the bed. The girl’s eyes follow his movement, sluggishly.

He stops. Something presses in his chest and squeezes all the air out. 

_ Just transfer the energy. It’s easy. Just think of it like CPR without the chest compressions. _

There’s a ringing sound in his mind as he leans forward. Lips, chapped and bloodless pale, blur before his eyes.

_ You can do it. Just— _

“Move.” A hand clamps on his shoulder and he nearly jumps as the voice slices through the haze of his mind.

It’s Lio.

“I said move.”

He moves.

Lio, without hesitation, seals his lips over the girl’s.

Meis and Gueira are arguing in the background, but Galo barely notices. He’s focused on what’s happening in front of him.

The ringing is gone, replaced by hushed tones of the flames he is beginning to recognise as resonation, and he swears he can see the pink little triangles passing from Lio to the girl in a steady pattern.

Lio repeats this motion.

And again.

And again.

Galo is about to offer his help when the girl coughs and gasps, and inhales deeply. The heart monitor beeps more regularly now, and everyone seems to sigh in relief at the same time.

Lio pulls away, and for a moment seems to sway. However, when Galo puts his hand out, he’s pushed back.

“You’ll be all right,” Lio says, hand briefly gripping the girl’s. “Hang in there, Thyma.”

Her lips move without sound, but it’s plain to everyone she’s saying “Thank you.”

The doctor dabs at some sweat on her face. “I’ll take it from here.” She inclines her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t…earlier…”

Lio pats her on the shoulder. “You’re doing your best. We all are. And no, I don’t want to hear anything from either of you two.” This is directed at Meis and Gueira. “Not right now.”

“Yes, Boss,” they say in unison, expressions sulky.

“And you. Galo.”

“…y.es?”

“Let’s go.”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me?”

Lio is rolling his eyes, probably. He’s keeping his back to Galo. “That was earlier.”

He goes.

They walk up this time, to the highest level. He's pretty sure he's getting in more exercise than he does running in and out of a burning building.

Galo blinks at the stars, and is surprised at the drop in temperature.

“Gets cold out here, doesn't it?” he notes, mostly the break the silence.

Lio shrugs, and merely pulls his jacket more tightly around himself.

Seriously, does he have to begin every conversation? He drags a hand through his bangs and goes for it. “About earlier, is that…something about Burnish that I should know? Normal people don’t save people by kissing them.”

“Take a guess.”

“The energy—the flames, they last longer than our bodies. So if you share them, you can…help? Am I close?”

“Almost.” Lio sits down, spreading his legs and resting his head in one hand. Galo’s beginning to be familiar with that posture, and for some reason, it annoys me. “When we become Burnish, there’s…a countdown that starts. And the more we use the flame, the faster it goes.”

_ What _ . “How long does a person have? Is there any way to measure?”

“It depends. I’ve seen a person become a Burnish and die the same day.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Mejs and Gueira? They were all concerned. They didn’t want to ask you.”

“Is that why you were there?”

“Sorta. I wanted to help. Also—” Since he remembered, “Meis was also counting something. Said something about me being a three?”

“Not you. Your flames,” Lio responds. “It's the different colours. The more you have, the stronger your power is.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t noticed. No one ever did. All they saw was that mass of fire and they panicked. Or in his case, he was too busy putting them out. “Is that a good number? What’s yours?”

“You can see that for yourself tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, you mean—”

“Training. Yes. Three’s enough.”

“Can it increase?”

“With practice.”

Lio is probably at a ten then, if it went that high. Galo scratches the back of his neck. “…so how much time do  _ you _ have left?”

All he gets is a dispassionate look. 

“Fine, fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll know when I beat you.”

“That won’t happen.”

Galo snorts. “Suuuuure.” Watch him, Lio. “Is it hard?”

“What part of it? Watching people die? Transferring the flame? Wondering which way you’ll meet your end?”

“All of those? I really didn’t know. And it’s pretty cool you can save people like that, but it’s—it’s” He gestures. “—unfair.” Just like the circumstances.  


There's a short burst of humourless laughter. “I thought I told you; we live for the flames. It’s the way it is.”

“And no one can beat it?”

Maybe he’s imagining it, but it seems as if Lio’s shoulders sag a little. “Not for lack of trying.”

Galo takes a seat, next to him but not too close. “I’ll try, too. For your sake.”

“Excuse me?”

“Our sake? Everyone’s sake?” Flustered, he grasps for words. “For the Burnish. I’ll do my best. Since it's my life now, too” He ventures to look at Lio once more, and holds out his hand. “And you’ll teach me what you know. Deal?”

The silence stretches one, two, five seconds.

Then Lio takes his hand. “I don’t go easy on people.”

“Really? I thought you went easy on me before and let me arrest you.”

“That didn’t count.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up.”

He’s pretty sure Lio’s smiling; he can hear it.

So far, this is better than their earlier attempts at any working dialogue. 

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thyma lives! /o/


	6. ( V )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns its rating :)

**( V )**

ＬＩＯ，

The view is stunning, if you got up early enough. The sky is almost always blue during the day, but in the mornings and evenings it varies. Shades of pink, orange, purple, yellow—it’s similar to the Burnish flames. It seems like proof that they should be allowed, if the hues of the skies are allowed.

…see, thoughts like that are exactly why he shouldn’t be allowed to think before he’s had caffeine and food. He gets morose in the morning, after waking up and staring up at the ceiling before rolling over and climbing to the top of this hideout.

Lio isn’t a morning person, but he likes the mornings he _chooses_ to wake up, rather than when he has to. He’s not even sure why he’s awake this early, when the past week (or two?) included very little sleep.

He caught sight of himself just before he left his room, and he finds himself absently combing his hair with his fingers even now. The greenish-blue tint of the edge of the sky signifies it’s past sunrise, and soon it will be only blue horizons stretching endlessly.

There’s footsteps up the stairs, but he doesn't turn. He knows to whom they belong to. “Morning,” he calls out.

“Morning.” Meis tosses something his away; Lio catches it, and sees it’s a granola bar (blueberry-lemon). Gueira takes one side, and Meis the other.

“When we get times like this, it’s almost like we’re normal people.” Meis bites down on his own bar, the crunch similar to his footfalls from earlier. “Waking up, watching the sun…”

Gueira snorts. “Maybe we should get a PO box for ourselves. Addressed to Mad Burnish, at Burnish Hideout. Please send the Sunday newspaper.” 

All three of them chuckle. Lio finds that his gets trapped halfway down his throat, and he chews at the granola nosily to make it go down. “There isn’t any news worth reading, anyway.”

Meis crumbles the wrapper in his hand. “Maybe someday.” A puff of flame and smoke, and he shakes out the ashes from his fingers. “I don’t really think that far.”

Gueira shoves his wrapper into his back pocket. “Neither do I.” He rolls his shoulders back in a stretch. “What about you, Boss?”

“I haven’t thought that much, either.” A future is a luxury that none of them have. Lio twists the crinkly plastic in his fingers. “Maybe I’ll buy a house and a dog and settle down, like they always do in those stories.”

“Didn’t you pick up a dog already on your way here?” Gueira nudges him. “One that’s loud and hella excited over everything.”

Lio looks at him. “…you mean him. Galo.” He can feel a muscle near his eye twitching.

“Yeah, him.” Meis scratches the side of his neck. “I guess he really does want to help us and all. Last night—” he trails off, and gestures. “He probably would’ve done it, if he knew how.”

“Nah, I think he would’ve eventually done it without even knowing. Guys like him act first and think later.”

Lio stands. “Seems like you warmed up to him already. Are you sure the two of you don’t need a dog?”

Meis and Gueira look at him. “Nope,” they both say, almost in unison. “He’s all yours,” Gueira adds. “But we’ll help if you need it, for the training.”

“…I did say I would do that.”

“Sure did, Boss.” Meis pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

**~**

To be fair, Lio’s not dreading it, helping Galo. Sensibly speaking, he's already noted Galo picked up on things fast, as proven by his actions. But he really did talk a lot, and he’s probably just too much of a good kind of guy. The kind of guy that wears all his emotions openly and didn’t think much about the repercussions of that. Guys like him were bound to get hurt easily if they trusted too easily. Galo trusted _Kray Foresight_ , of all people.

And judging by the way he’s waving at Lio upon seeing him at the main dining location, he’s trusting him too much now, too. Only after a day? Or was it two, if they’re counting when they first met and smashed through each other’s armours?

Lio brushes his thoughts away and lifts his chin to acknowledge Galo’s wave. He watches, as the other weaves through the people, holding a bowl of scrambled eggs and a plate of sausages in the same hand—somehow.

“Morning, Lio!” he says. He’s definitely a morning person.

“Mm.” The smell of eggs was mixed in with ketchup. So he’s _that_ kind of eggs person. “How was your night?”

“Went okay. Still can’t believe I’m here.” The eggs were gone in a few bites, the sausages following. Does Galo Thymos even chew his food? “So what do you do all day?”

“…what do I do?”

“Yeah. Do. Like—” Galo waves his free hand. “All the news made it sound like Burnish just set things on fire and ran away. But it's a functioning community. What do you do when you’re not being a terrorist?”

“Revolutionist,” he corrects. “I eat, I sleep, I talk to people.” 

“Don’t you plan?”

“Yes, I do scheming, but it’s not that…” Lio pauses. “Linear. I have to wait for information, or I go looking for it.”

Galo’s eyebrows rise. “You have spies?”

“It's mostly have people I’ve rescued. Not everyone stays here.” Some people didn’t want to let go of their way of living; others couldn’t accept the new reality. Or others wanted to be useful. “And there’s training our powers, of course. Did you forget?”

“Forget something like that? Haha.” Galo finishes the rest of his breakfast. In literally three huge bites, Lio notes. “So where are we meeting for this?”

“Outside.” He doesn’t elaborate.

“Oh.” Galo tilts his head. “I didn’t ask earlier, but is there a map of this place?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Lio turns. “Follow me.” 

He’s trying to not think about the conversation from earlier, or about the comparison. _No_. But he can’t help it, especially when he looks back and sees Galo, right on his heels and keeping up. He’s still in that uniform, and as they leave the crowded area, Lio can hear the material of the bright red and yellow swishing loudly, in time to the clunk of his boots. He’s not wearing the gloves, and he has a shirt on still.

…is the shirt a part of the uniform or not? Lio can’t tell.

The difference between outside and inside is only in temperature, not the air, seeing how they’re in an abandoned structure with few functioning windows. His shoes sink slightly; he kicks the dry, short tufts of grass that struggle through the ground.

Galo loudly inhales, before cracking his neck by jerking his neck from side to side. “Kinda empty, isn’t it,” he says. “And…dangerous.”

Lio finds himself almost breathing the same. There’s always a hint of ash in the air that he drags it into lungs to hold. “The volcano? It won’t affect us.”

“Right, right. So—” Galo looks expectantly at him. “Where do we begin?”

“Here.” It’s like waking up, the reflexes of the body easily respond as he breathes out flames into his cupped hands. Look, he’s not subtle about this; Burnish have their pride, and not everyone can do this. The voices are agreeable as Lio flings out his arms, outspread. The flames shape themselves, twisting and writhing, until they become a sword.

He does not point it at Galo this time.

Galo whistles. “So it really is made of the flames.”

“Completely.” Lio stabs the sword through the ground. “It’s all control in the mind.” Come to think of it, he’s never really explained this to anyone. When he met Meis and Gueira, they were already capable, after having aggressively survived on their own. “The energy is already there, so you’re listening to it and then using it.”

“Do you talk to them?”

“Not quite. But they know when you’re paying attention to them.” He tosses the sword in an upward motion, and in less than five seconds, has the flames formed into a bow and several arrows. “Try it.”

“Eh? Can’t you show me more?”

“It’s the same thing in different forms. Just picture the flames and change it into a gun. Or sword. Anything.”

“What about the armour? Or those cool bikes you’ve got?”

“I’ll teach you later. Don’t be in a rush.”

Galo droops a little. “Aw, fine.” He blows his bangs out of his eyes, and holds out his hands.

Lio disperses his flames, and folds his arms to wait.

A drop of sweat wanders its way down Galo’s forehead. Then another. A flame, smaller than the bowl he was holding earlier, appears in his hands.

Lio makes a note to himself to tell Galo that sweat can be remedied too. Burnish don't overheat, but it does take some practice to become acclimated. He might not answer the stupid question of pee, but Galo can probably figure that out for himself.

Minutes pass.

The flame spits and grows a little in size, and Galo’s visibly clenching his teeth now.

Lio’s about to tell him to take a break when it happens.

Dramatically, too. There’s a burst of flame and smoke that causes a localised wind to sweep through them, catching his hair. Sand flies into the air, and he burns it away, also clearing the smoke.

“Did I do it?” he hears Galo exclaiming. “Did I—oh shit, I did!”

Something sharp and black gleams in the sun. Lio clears out the rest of the smoke, and he blinks. “What did you—”

“It’s Matoi!”

“…Matoi?”

“You’ve seen it before! It’s what I used when I arrested you guys! Did you miss the whole presentation? Since I can totally show you again!”

Oh, _that_. Lio clears his throat, but Galo’s too caught up.

“I thought about a gun but then it didn't seem right. Matoi’s all I need.” Galo is gleefully waving the thing—it’s honestly a glorified flag of sorts. “Look at it!”

“I am looking.”

“What do you think?”

A lot of things. It looks ridiculous. But try as he might, the happiness is catching; when was the last time someone aside from the kids here was this excited to be using flames? Lio bites his mouth to keep from smiling too much. “Not bad.”

“So what’s next?”

Lio manifests his sword again. “Seeing if it holds up.”

“Oooh. A rematch then.” Galo takes a defensive stance. “Don’t go easy on me.”

This time, he does smile for real. “Don’t worry, I don’t go easy on Burnish.”

**~**

He really doesn’t go easy.

It takes Lio three minutes to get through Galo’s moves, shatter his weapon and smack him in the face, then ten minutes of him telling Galo how to heal up fast and form the flames, before pummelling him again—and again and again.

By the time they stop, it’s probably close to noon. At this point, Galo can transform the fire into his flag—excuse him, Matoi—in a matter of seconds, and hold his form for a good battering for at least a few minutes before Lio breaks all his defenses.

Lio unzips his jacket, and Galo yanks his shirt off.

“Aaaah, it’s hot, it’s hot.” He wipes his face with said shirt. “And—” he abruptly sits down. "Wow."

“Dizzy?”

“Sorta. That’s normal?” 

“Yes.” Lio crouches down, and claps his hands against Galo’s temples. “The first few times, you’re using up so much energy and the flames get…rather excited. And they use too much of you.” He can practically hear fireworks going on in there.

“So like…extra adrenaline.”

“Mhm.” Not to mention Galo’s in a good state of health, has exuberance, and is fit. The flames are having a field day. He presses a little more tightly.

_That’s enough. Give him a break._

They simmer down, and Galo blinks up at Lio. “How’d you do that?”

“Practice.” He lets go, looks at the sweat he’s gathered on his gloves, and peels them off. “And time.”

“How long does it take?”

A few years, he nearly says. But he decides to give a better answer. “I've been Burnish since I was a teen, so I learned way back.”

“Oh. That long ago?” Galo stands up, stretching his arms over his head.

“So now you think I’m an adult?”

“Uhh, I did call you a kid when we met, didn’t I. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He knows he’s not exactly tall, and his face doesn’t exactly scream ‘terrorist’ or even adult. “Count yourself lucky; most of us can’t learn like this.”

“I mean, I think it’s pretty damn amazing if you taught yourself everything.” Galo shrugs sheepishly. “The only thing I taught myself was cooking.”

He squints. “You cook?”

“What, I don’t look like I know how?”

“When my first impression of you is a guy who’s too focused on being a hero that he takes on Mad Burnish without the right equipment…” Lio starts out.

“It all worked out in the end!”

“It’s just a good thing I _wanted_ to be arrested. Otherwise you’d be dead, Galo.”

Galo grins. “Like you said, I’m a lucky guy!”

Too lucky. “Seems to be the case.” Lio picks up his jacket, and shakes it out. “And that’s it for today.”

“No bike?”

“Do you want to pass out and wake up with sand in your nose?”

“Aww, fine.” Galo sags a little, and then he shoots back up. “Wait. Lio.”

He pauses.

“About the G—about Kray.” He stumbles. “I can’t forget what he’s done for me. He’s done a lot over the years.”

 _Here we go again,_ Lio thinks, ready to spar words with him again.

“But I wanna say that I believe you. All of you.”

“Didn’t you say something like that before?”

“Yeah, but I really mean it. I’m just—” He makes a frustrated sound. “Lio, work with me one second here. I went from thinking I knew everything to find out I don’t know a single damn thing. But I know you shouldn’t have to live like this. None of you do.”

“You’re still talking like you have a place to go back to.” Lucky, indeed. Lio feels his hands closing into fists.

“I mean…I might? I don’t know, I—I haven’t talked to Burnish Rescue, but they’re great. They’re good. I think they'd be okay with this. But—” Galo shakes his head, “it’s not fair.”

“So that’s it? You’re on our side?”

“I don’t know. I think…maybe if you talked to people, you could work things out.”

Something cracks in his chest and he sees stars for a split second. Holy _shit_. “You think we haven’t tried? Or that I haven’t tried?” What do people think he’s doing, when he says that Mad Burnish doesn't kill? Do they not realise the lack of casualties, or the exits left open? “I don't want your pity if you think things can be solved so damn easily.”

“Maybe I can try. I can talk to him—”

He can’t help himself; he pushes Galo in the chest, hard. 

It’s like pushing a solid rock.

However, Galo, caught by surprise, pitches forward right into Lio.

Falling sometimes happens in slow motion, but this isn’t one of those times. One moment he’s upright, and the next his head is ringing and a knee’s at his chest, Galo’s face maybe only three or four inches away.

…they have got to stop ending up like this.

“Lio, I didn’t mean to—”

He shoves again. “Get off me, Galo.”

Galo does, very quickly. But before Lio can push himself up, Galo’s already doing it, pulling him up by the arms.

His hands are hot, much hotter than Lio’s. Odd how he hasn’t noticed it before. Or maybe they’re only this temperature due to using the flames.

“Sorry.”

Lio takes a step back, the buzzing in his ears slowly disappearing to be replaced with liquid ire filling his pores until he's ready to spit fire. “I swear if you _fucking_ bring him back up one more time, I’ll take you and drop you at his doorstep.”

But even as he says this, he knows he won’t. Lio Fotia does not betray Burnish. The words prick his tongue, and he quickly walks away.

“Lio—”

Nope, he’s going. He’s gone. He needs a drink.

And maybe punch one or two Freeze Force members and destroy their equipment. That always helps.

**.**

****

**[By Goldy](https://twitter.com/clockfairie/status/1266471639232872451) **

**.**

ＧＡＬＯ，

Guide to being the world’s # 1 (Ex) Firefighting Idiot:

Step 1: Be Galo Thymos.

He’s always rushed into things. He remembers the scrapes, bruises, broken bones. He remembers the clinic and hospital trips. He remembers arguing his point or saying stuff that had people punching him. Just more recently, he nearly had his head taken off after talking to Freeze Force. Shit like that.

Step 2: Fuck things up.

Aaaaand of course he managed to piss off Lio. The guy that was teaching him. The guy that could take him down in seconds despite being tiny and fluffy and in impossibly tight pants. The guy that everyone looks up to in this settlement. That Lio Fotia.

Of course he’s gotta knock heads with the only people that won’t lock him up. At least, he doesn’t think they will?

Step 3: Overthink the aftermath, because what else can be done?

Lio’s disappeared from the settlement, and after asking around, Galo learns he’s gone out with Gueira and Meis. When will they be back, he had asked? No idea, they said. He comes and goes as he pleases.

It’s not that he disappointed Lio didn’t take him. He’s been Burnish for only so long, and he never said he was Mad Burnish. He’d be a liability, and he can’t even conjure a bike out of the flames.

He’s disappointed at himself for sticking his foot in his mouth once again.

Note to self: try not to bring up Kray Foresight.

But it’s hard when there’s a poster of him in the apartment, his number in Galo’s ruined phone, and his smile in his memory.

‘ _Why didn’t you tell me_ ,’ he wants to ask, so badly. ‘ _Why are you experimenting on innocent people?_ ’

There’s no answers in the wall he’s staring at, nor in the people here. Galo has wandered the entire expanse of this place, mapping it out and understanding the community.

They’re real people, and they deserve a better place than a worn-out remnant building.

He finds himself sitting on a dilapidated couch, staring out at the desert. There’s the volcano, too close for his comfort.

Maybe he should toss himself in. Maybe that’ll give him some answers. Surely…surely there’s a way to work this out, for normal people and Burnish to live together.

Right?

A ball hitting his arm jolts him out of his thoughts. He starts, and sees a bunch of kids, around ten or eleven years of age maybe, running towards him.

“Sorry!” One of them calls out. “We didn’t think anyone’s here right now.”

“S’okay,” he says, tossing the ball back to them. “Who’s usually here?” He imagines a lot of kids share this place.

“Lio. But he’s out right now.”

Interesting. “Lio? He comes here?”

Another kid answers this time. “Yeah, a lot! He likes it here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he _says_ he likes to come here to think about things.” The girl grins; she’s missing a tooth. “But _I_ think he comes here to see us.”

He has to laugh. Lio, having a soft side for children? He can see it. Children weren’t complicated like adults. “What does he do while he’s here?”

“He talks to us. And he sometimes teaches us. But don’t tell anyone! He doesn’t want to get in trouble.” Giggles follow this reveal. “He's just kidding, tho. He’s the Boss, he can’t get into trouble.”

“Oh, he can get into a lot of trouble if he tries. And guess what?”

“What?”

“I get into _more_ trouble. I fought with Lio before.”

Everyone gasps. One boy, with hair falling over into his eyes, shakes his head. “No way!”

“Yes, way.”

“How're you still alive?”

“Because I’m the luckiest person ever, that’s why!” He accentuates this with a thumb jammed into his sternum. “And guess what?”

“What?”

“I was a firefighter. So I _arrested_ him.”

This gets several looks of horrors. “Lio should lock you for that.”

Galo grins. “He did already. That’s why I’m here.” Partially. “You guys want to hear about it?”

Of course they do; Kids always love his stories. It puts him back into a better mood, though he doesn't stop thinking about his conversation—or rather, argument with Lio.

**~**

He settles—somewhat. If wandering restlessly to occupy himself can be called that. Four days go by that are enough to meet more people, get a drink or two, practice his abilities, and, finally, get more clothes that weren’t his uniform. He’s also scored a place of his own, an empty section tucked between a couple with a baby and one guy that’s always cutting up old newspapers or sleeping. It smells oddly of lemons, but he’s not complaining, certainly not after a full day of chasing kids, making a nuisance of himself, and trying to keep the flame form of his matoi as long as possible.

While Galo’s going through the things he’s brought with him, he comes across the log he’d been keeping since he became Burnish. He had tried to be straightforward about it, clinical and observant, but it simply wasn’t him. The last few entries, had he even slept?

But the voices were much, much more manageable, as if they were listening to him. Sometimes, he’ll randomly press his hands together just to form the flames to stare at them. Sometimes, it feels as if there were faces staring back, but the more closely he looked, the less he’d see them.

The force of his own words haunt him: _why don’t you talk it out?_

He hadn’t talked it out with anyone before he left, how can he expect that for people who’ve been Burnish longer?

On the fourth day, he casually asks if there’s communication devices anywhere, and there in fact, was. Two girls that tinkered in radios and computers had a collection burner phones. Galo doesn’t even ask how they got them, or how the phone worked in this desolate place.

He calls Aina. She doesn’t pick up, so he leaves a message.

> _Hey. I…I uh, just up and left, didn’t I._
> 
> _…_
> 
> _Heh, you know me, always jumpin’ headfirst before thinking._
> 
> _I had to make a getaway after a surprise like that. I wish I saw all your faces, 'cause back then—I hadn’t been looking. I—you guys knew I had to leave, right? Lucky me, Freeze Force wasn’t there._
> 
> _…I mean…I’m sorry._
> 
> _Maybe I should’ve said something, or told you. But d_ _on’t take it personally, Aina. I didn’t tell anyone. I’m shitty at keeping secrets and I didn't even think I’d last that long, so I guess it was just time for me to go._
> 
> _I don’t know if I’ll be back. I’m safe, I’m looking out for myself and some others. Don’t come looking for me—I know you probably are, but it’s better if all of you guys stayed away, yeah?_
> 
> _And uh…if you could, leave messages for everyone?_
> 
> _Tell the Captain thanks for everything and sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.  
>  Tell Remi I stole his sunglasses and yes I broke them, and that I’m sorry.  
> Tell Varys that I can still beat his record in eating pizza slices, and he better not get out of practice.  
> Tell Lucia that no one makes shit like her stuff, and that she’s better than anything Freeze Force can come up with. _
> 
> _If the Gov…if Kray asks anything, tell him you don’t know. I doubt he’ll ask, but just in case…I don’t want this to get you in trouble._
> 
> _Thanks, Aina. I owe you one.  
>  If we do run into each other, don't yell too much at me, or punch me too hard. _
> 
> _Bye._

He ends up finding the smallest, furthest corner he can fit himself into so that he can bury his head in his arms and blank out for a while. No, he's not crying, but he's coming to terms with all of this.

Time to be a terrorist.

Revolutionist, actually.

**~**

Lio comes back the day after; Galo knows because of the commotion. He follows it, because what else is there to do? There’s more Burnish rescued, lost and bewildered. Did he look like that, all wide-eyed and wary? Did he openly stare at Lio, listening to his reports and updates? Their eyes meet for a split second; Lio looks away first. Or maybe he hadn’t been looking in the first place. Maybe it was a coincidence.

So Galo approaches Meis instead—with a hint of caution. “Hey,” he offers.

“Hey.” Meis returns. He doesn’t seem tense.

“Congrats.”

“On what?”

“Saving more Burnish.”

Meis flicks strands of his hair over his shoulder. “It’s how things are.”

“It shouldn’t be,” he says, before he can stop himself.

This time, Meis looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not _fair_.” Galo grounds out the last word. “This isn’t fair.”

“You’re only getting that just now?”

He sighs. “Know I've been sayin' it, but the reality of it is killing me.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“I save people—saved people, too.” A pause, and he holds out his hand. “Think your Boss will let me join you guys?”

“Oh, he probably will.” Meis grins, and reaches back. “He insulted you half the trip this time, but he also says you picked up on shit and that you've got the right responses.”

“Half the trip?”

“Called you an idiot at least seven times and said you were ‘that idiotic, muleish, crazy guy we picked up.’ Said you were a handful, but he just doesn’t know how to teach.”

“I’ve sort of gathered that.”

A laugh. “You’ll get used to it.” Meis pulls away. “I need to unload supplies, but I’ll catch you around—and if you want tips, or challenges, look for me. Or Gueira. Or both of us.”

Galo sends him off with a wave and a smile, and lets out a breath slowly.

Lio doesn’t hate him; thank fucking goodness. But now to actually find him?

He runs around for at least a good fifteen minutes before he finally locates Lio; a room of floating dust particles and salvaged books that he had only passed by once. Lio’s sitting on the broken windowsill, legs dangling perilously as he eats a granola bar. The afternoon sun outlines him, and without the jacket, his upper body is a clear shadow underneath the billowy shirt, almost willowy.

Distracted, he grasps for the first thing that comes to his mind. “You’re not easy to find.” How observant, Galo.

“I’m not trying to make myself available, if you’ve noticed.”

“Yup. I did.”

“But you looked for me anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry.” It feels like he’s been saying that a lot. “About what I said before. I was wrong.”

Lio doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are on Galo.

“It’s…it’s fucked up.” He remembers the biased documentaries, the news praising Freeze Force, and the feeling that things in the world were wrong. “It’s always been. You’re all _people_.” With families and homes, with lives and jobs. “I get it now.”

“Do you?”

“Not all of it. I still need answers, but I’ll look for ’em myself.” Answers that he’ll need from Kray himself, but that’s not happening anytime soon. Galo crosses his arms and inhales. “And…sorry for accidentally falling on you?”

Lio actually laughs. Not loudly, or every long, but he does. When he’s finished, he shakes his head. “That didn’t actually hurt, just so you know.”

“It’d better not.”

“So what are you going to do from now?”

“Good question. I was uh…thinking being actually Mad Burnish? Once you teach me more of your badass moves and how to make a giant, dangerous bike.” Listen, his job didn’t allow for him to have an expensive one at this moment, so he’s just living his dreams a little right now and that why he keeps asking. 

Lio swings his legs down from the ledge. “I’ll teach you tomorrow. Did you practice?”

“Yeah, a few hours every day.”

“Show me.”

Galo spreads his hands out, flames trailing from and away and twisting. He swings, and it becomes a Matoi. Less than a few second, too. He grins. “Better?”

“Much.” Lio straightens up, one hand on the ledge. “I’ll have a go at you tomorrow.” And then he seems to sway, a peculiar motion that doesn’t match his frame.

Without thinking, Galo puts his hand out and grasps Lio’s shoulder. “All good?” It’s a tiny shoulder that gets swallowed up in the palm of his hand.

Lio drags a hand through his bangs; much to Galo’s surprise, he doesn’t move away. “I’m tired.”

“Didn’t sleep well?”

“Too busy to sleep.” Lio gestures. “If you hadn't noticed, I was awy.”

“For sure.” Slowly, Galo pulls his hand away. “Are you shivering…?” Come to think of it, Lio’s a bit…cooler? Not as hot as yesterday. Maybe it’s because Galo’s getting more accustomed to being Burnish and having a sixth sense of sorts, but this isn’t normal, is it? “Lio—”

“It’s fine. I just need to rest.”

Galo nearly lets it go, for a second. Then he doesn’t listen. “No. Look at me.” 

“Look at you?” Lio echoes, but he does, actually.

Weary. Very weary eyes. Dull anger that’s been sated for the moment and sits just under the surface, waiting for the chance to be released. There’s a smudge on his right cheek.

“Are you done?”

There’s so many things he wants to ask.

_What was your life like up until this point?_

_Where you always on your own?_

_What are your plans afterwards if you succeed?_

_If you can’t resolve things, will you have to choose to kill?_

Instead, he brushes away the smudge with his finger. “You’re really cold.” Not frozen, but definitely cold. He grabs Lio’s hands because…one, he’s afraid Lio will actually fall over, and two, to warm them up.

The expression Lio makes is somewhere in between bemused and annoyed. “Like I said, I had a long day.” He’s letting his hands stay where they are. “Sometimes we overdo it.”

“Well, what helps it?”

“The basics? Sleep, food, a hot bath, time—” A pause. “Sex.”

Does Lio think that’s going to shock him? “Does it.” The shirt has very loose sleeves, and Lio has very thin wrists. Galo presses his thumb over where he thinks is the pulse point (even though the thumb is useless for feeling pulses). “Sounds too good to be true.” 

“It’s true.”

“Ah, good to know.” He drags his thumb past the ridges of Lio’s wrist. “I’ll put that to good use.” He releases his fingers, only for Lio to snag his hand.

“Will you?” When did Lio move closer?

“Yeah, why not?”

“I don’t know, are you really good at judging situations?”

“Course I am. I’m—I was in a job that needed that.” Galo swallows. It still takes some getting used to. “Sometimes I gotta play it safe.”

Lio tilts his head. “Hmm. But don’t you take risks? Especially ones that have fire involved?”

“I do, I do! But with _people—_ ” Look, this is already a lot. He’s got his hands on someone he knew less than a few weeks. “Okay, okay. Do you want—”

He doesn’t get to finish; Lio already leaned in to press their mouths together, and the very instant of it is like diving into freezing water. Only, this was the exact opposite of that metaphor. Touching a flame? But they already do, so it’s more like—

“Are you _distracted?_ ” Lio yanks on his hair.

“No, just thinking,” he protests. “You—” At least he can finally settle his hands on Lio’s waist, which is something he’s been thinking about that for a while. One finger catches in a belt loop. “Is this helping?”

Lio rolls his eyes.

Okay, that’s a stupid question. Galo rubs the side of his nose. No more questions. His lips tingle, and he wonders if there’s little flames flaring out from them.

“Are you done judging the situation?”

“Yeah.” He tightens his grip, and feels Lio tense before he bends his head.

This second kiss is better, like he’s gotten acclimated. The sun is setting, and there’s a vague worry in the back of his mind someone will find them, but Lio’s got fidgety, agile hands that wander, and Galo’s just as good at multitasking. They fumble back and forth a little on their feet like a bad waltz until Galo finally presses him against the wall, just out of sight of the window.

He’s gotten the collar of Lio’s shirt open, revealing the length of his throat and the sharp angles of bones. Again, he’s half-expecting flames, but there’s none.

“Um,” he starts. This is probably stupid.

“What?”

“Doing this won’t make us randomly combust or explode, right?”

“Only if you were trying.”

“But the voices—”

“Don’t worry.” Lio’s fingers creep up to fold against the back of his neck, yanking him closer. “You’re with me.”

Oh sure, sex with the leader of Mad Burnish who escaped from a high-security prison and can hand his ass to him so many different ways. Reassuring.

But they’re already here, and Galo Thymos doesn’t back down from challenges he’s decided to take.

 _I think I’ve let you push me around long enough._ He unbuttons the rest of Lio’s shirt, and drags his teeth to follow his fingers as he trails them down collarbones to sternum and ribs. Lio squirms, his breaths growing shorter. At one point he yanks on Galo’s shirt and nearly gets his arms stuck when they both struggle to take it off.

He pulls away when Lio reaches for the sleeve on his arm. “Sorry, I—” he pauses.

“It’s fine.” Lio’s unbuckling his own pants. “I won’t ask.” And he pulls them down, leaving very little room to be thinking. Or talking.

This isn’t the strangest of places he’s banged someone, but it’s definitely a first, and definitely one of the fastest times he chose. It happens in a blur, of him kicking his clothes and shoes out of the way and hoisting Lio up and bracing him against the wall.

The flames are buzzing, but almost inaudibly. What’s louder is their combined breathing, unsteady and uneven, matching his pulse as they press themselves together.

Galo takes the both of them in his hands while Lio leaves marks with his nails. “You’re not cold anymore,” he hears himself say as he thrusts his hips against Lio’s, fingers moving in tandem.

“No shit,” Lio responds. “I told you.”

He grips harder, and strokes more deliberately. His chest is tight, and he pushes Lio a little more against the wall.

“Galo.” The way Lio says his name, low and soft, makes his throat dry.

“Yeah?”

“You’re holding back.”

“I’m—” he falters.

Lio forcefully inhales, and then he laces his fingers behind Galo’s head to bring their foreheads together. “You’re with me. _You don’t have to hold back_.” he finishes his words with a slow, slow swipe of his tongue against Galo’s jawline.

He swallows. 

“Where’s the Galo that arrested me?” Lio whispers, eyes pratically glowing.

His fingers slip, and he clings a bit more desperately. He’s never done this while being Burnish, hadn’t even gotten himself off because it felt so precarious—

But here’s a guy who is basically asking him for trust, and they don’t even know each other beyond the most basic of information. A guy he arrested and then the guy caught him.

Fingers massage the side of his neck, and then Lio is kissing him again, teeth scratching against his lips.

Where’s that Galo? Still here.

He finds the rhythm back again. Ends up sinking down on his knees for a better angle as he touches the both of them, fast and hard. 

They don’t catch on fire; he actually doesn’t know if just placebo or if Lio’s really doing something about it, but all he sees is the appearance of Lio coming apart, mouth open and head thrown back,throat visibly swallowing with each gasp while sweat gleams on his skin.

It’s probably been only less than half an hour when they collapse against the wall, their limbs tangled.

Head buzzing, chest heaving, Galo picks Lio up from the floor to put in his lap. How funny, that a few days ago Lio had been there and they had been trying to get away from each other. Now Lio leans against him, head on his shoulder, legs curled up as he breathes. He’s no longer shivering, and there’s more colour to his cheeks. His hair is an absolute wreck, but it looks…cute.

“You’re not half-bad.” Lio fluffs his disheveled hair, tugging at the bangs.

Galo snorts. “Thanks.” He’s going to have bruises on his shoulders, for sure. And the scratches aren’t going to fade on his back for a while, will they. “You’re not bad yourself.”

“It helps that you agreed.”

“I was going to ask…down the line,” he mutters. “And then you kissed me.”

“It’s called skipping to the good part, Galo.” Lio taps his sternum. “Burnish have to make the best of resources and time.”

“And situations and people.”

“Mm. yes.” The tapping stops. “And people.”

He looks around the room, at the window, the old books, their heaps of clothes. “…Lio.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” The words get stuck. “For…you know.” Galo runs his fingers cautiously through Lio’s hair, and is rewarded with a sigh and Lio’s eyes closing. 

His eyelashes, Galo notes, are wonderfully long.

“You’re welcome.”

They watch the sun go down before he remembers they should probably put their clothes back on. Lio lets him help with all of his belts (after Galo’s insistence because he did take them off), even leans against him until they’re out of the room before he moves away.

…he _definitely_ did not plan for this at all. Not for the attempts to hide the blossoming telltale marks, nor the surprised-turned-to-smirking looks from Gueira and Meis, much less for Lio to later come looking for him and say that he’s welcome to spend his night with him, whenever. 

He takes him up on that offer.

_‘So I’m officially part of Mad Burnish now, right.’_

_‘Galo, if you’re implying every member of Mad Burnish sleeps with me, I’m sorry to disappoint.’_

_‘…that didn’t even cross my mind.’_

_‘Well if it did, you wouldn’t be the first to think that.’_

_‘I’d be able to see why people thought that.’_

_‘Hah.’_

_‘ …uh, Lio. Is there actually any initiation to being Mad Burnish?’_

_‘I’ll show you tomorrow. Now stop stealing the blanket. I’ve only got one.’_

_‘I’m warm enough for the two of us.’_

_‘Fair enough.’_

Maybe life’s been too unpredictable, too fast and unexpected. He’s in some desert, sharing a bed with a not-terrorist, and there’s fire that talks to him.

However he sleeps soundly that night, for the first time in a long while.

It feels right, waking up with the sun, Lio sprawled against him.

**.**


	7. ( INTERLUDE I )

**( INTERLUDE I )**

**… time: ? …**

ＬＩＯ，

**Voice message submitted every major media company in the country:**

_Some people are dramatic by nature. Other people are dramatic because of circumstances.  
_ _I’m dramatic because I want to be. I’ve always tried to be only me, and no one else._

_Yes, this is Lio Fotia, Leader of Mad Burnish. Remember me?_

_Back to what I was saying about being dramatic—the problem is people’s opinions._

_There’s a line of “be yourself but don’t be cruel or selfish” that I don’t cross, but when it comes to people, even if you try to seek out what you want, or build a place you can belong, there’s always those who think you’re excluding them. Maybe people don’t remember, but it was us Burnish that was first excluded because we couldn’t be controlled._

_It’s only when you think we’re useful, that you come back trying to seek favours._

_Oh, wait. That’s not the right word. You came back to use us._

_“Lio Fotia, you’re a terrorist that sets buildings on fire and stalls progression. How is that building a place for Burnish?” So what? “Kray Foresight, you’re a possible murderer who pretends to bring peace and stability but lets a power-hungry force run free.” Has anyone thought about that? Did anyone question it, or were you all too desperate for a ‘solution’ that does away with people so you don’t have to think about them anymore?_

_Which one of these is the lesser evil? If I’m supposed to be defending myself, then I should pull out one long list of all the things that Foresight committed. Or does he get an excuse for the few good things and intentions he had?_

_I never said I wouldn’t take responsibility. As the leader of the Burnish “terrorist” group—really, I still prefer rebel or revolutionist—I’ve done various things that are outside the laws and generally was a public nuisance._

_But I’ve never killed in the name of self-righteousness.  
_ _Only self-defense._

_How does the world judge that?_

_Or maybe it shouldn’t even be judged; if we’re trying to figure out our priorities, should it not be the world?_

_There’s been enough attention on me and what I’ve done, or what I haven’t done. No one figured out my identity for the longest time because I wanted to keep it that way for the sake of each and every Burnish life that was deemed criminal._

_When everyone looks at us like we’re evil or criminals simply because we burned, we lost our individual identities. We were numbers and statistics and blurry images on the news. You treated all of us like that, so the collective Burnish is what I used._

_But now you have a name, you think you can place blame on us, and on me?_

_All right._

_Say what you want._

_I’m asking for the decency to be treated like any other person. Save your debates for your little family dinners and your drunk reunions. I’m not here to ask you to step out of your comfort zones or to be our fans. I’m here to tell you that if you think we’re terrible, you have no idea what terrible actually is and what kind of lie you’re living under your Governor Foresight._

_We’re still here, whether you like it or not._

_And Governor, if you can be bothered to find me, I’ll give you ten minutes of my time to explain yourself. Fridays, preferably._

**.**

ＧＡＬＯ，

**Voicemail left for Burning Rescue (Aina):**

_Hi Aina! Galo here, as you might already know since everyone says I've got a distinctive voice, haha.  
_

_Long time no see. I mean, this isn’t really seeing, but it’s close enough._

_I’m pretty sure you tried to contact me or trace me. Lucia’s good, I’ll give her that. But I mean it when I say don’t try to find me. It’s better for you and me and the rest of Burning Rescue._

_Technically, I shouldn’t even be leaving more messages. They told me it can’t be traced, but the risk’s still there…I keep up with the news and it doesn't really seem like people are mentioning anymore or any kind of manhunt, but there's no thing as being too careful.  
_

_…_

_But I’m an idiot, okay. And I miss you guys._

_Anyway, since last time, a lot’s happened! Did you know Burnish can make weapons with fire and it can cut through a shitton of things? Yeah, we fought Burnish before, but being able to do it like WHOOSH_ **_[inaudible]_** _is so damn neat. Basically you picture what you want and control the flames and it just appears! Did I make a matoi? You bet I made a matoi, because nothing’s cooler than a matoi. Had to repurpose it because I’m not putting out fires, but it’s good for so many other things. And I’ve got a bike too made out of fire too! I’m still workin’ on the controls, but I’m getting there. And holy shit, it’s huge and black and shiny. Like, huge HUGE; it makes Harleys look like nothing. And—_

_…_

_I wish you guys could see it. Lucia would lose her mind._

**_[silence]_ **

_ …shit, I hope I don’t have a time limit on this. _

_I guess I’m trying to say there’s lots I didn’t know about Burnish before. I thought I did, but I didn’t. They’ve been teaching me a lot of useful stuff, but there’s things I’m figuring out myself._

_Did you know there’s actually not many Mad Burnish members? Or Burnish, really. Also did you know there’s no real list of how many Burnish there are? No one’s bothered with a census. Everyone’s too busy trying to stop fires and arresting every person that sneezes flames or accidentally sets a place on fire._

_What happens after we arrested people, Aina? Where did they go?_

_And Freeze Force—where do they take them? How come no one ever sees them again?_

_I’m not the only one who’s thought about that even before I joined Burning Rescue, right? Don’t you ever wonder what comes next? I can’t even tell you what happens because no one knows. Not even the leader, and he’s been trying to figure this shit out for a while. Am I helping him? Kinda. They asked me plenty of questions about the Gov..enor but it’s not like he told me everything, either. I don’t think he tells anyone anything except that assistant of his._

_But you know what I’ve learned?_

_Burnish have family and names. They’ve got lives. They’re people, too. They—I—we’re trying our best. We don’t deserve to be treated like criminals when most of us just happened to one day randomly become like living flames. It’s like those superhero movies, kinda. Things just happened one day because of mysterious circumstances. Why can’t we be like that, just slightly cooler people that can make things out of a fire? Why are we hiding for our lives?_

_I tried to hold out ’cause I didn’t want to believe it. I tried to pretend everything’s normal._

_But it’s the way I am now. And I gotta do something for them because I can._

_I don’t know if I’ll end up fighting you. Or Verys and Remi. If you guys wanna hit me for hiding everything, go ahead._

_But if you get in my way…I can’t stop. I’m still saving people, I promise. I’m just doing it differently now._

_…the captain can punch me, too. If I come back someday—maybe—I’ll have a nice long chat with him if he wants to listen._

_If you made it the end of this without deleting, thanks._

_I’ll talk again another time. Can’t get rid of me after all, not unless you block all unknown numbers, hah. I'll take the damn risk.  
_

_Catch you later. Bye.  
_

**_[End of Message]_ **

**.TBC.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats for making it this far! I'm still working on the future installment, but I hope you like what's going on so far!
> 
> I had vague plans of this for some months, and had some ideas planned but nothing really in the works. Burnish!Galo isn't a new concept but nonetheless it intrigued me. After joining Promare Big Burn I thought it was better to make it happen or not at all.
> 
> Despite writing setbacks, some plotting mishaps (like unexpected story length), and the state of the actual world being bad and taking its toll on my stress and so forth, this fic/series is going where I want it to go, and I'm excited to write more. I'll likely post chapter by chapter, rather than all at once, but I definitely want to see this through. As you can tell, this is fairly close to canon but with some ideas and a longer timeline put into place. 
> 
> (Also yes there will be more smut. Detailed smut.)
> 
> Finally, I want to say thank you.   
> Thank you anyone reading, following, kudosing, and enjoying the content I've put out.   
> Thank you to the mods for making this event and being understanding and chill.  
> And a huge, huge thank you to Goldy for the truly lovely art. 
> 
> Please take care in this times.
> 
> (PS find me on twitter at finwion)


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